


Another Page is Turned

by CherryMilkshake



Series: Who would have thought you'd be a big softie? [7]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Drama, Established Relationship, Eventual Smut, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Parenthood, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-04
Updated: 2016-05-07
Packaged: 2018-05-24 15:31:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 23,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6158233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CherryMilkshake/pseuds/CherryMilkshake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The sending crystals were supposed to make the distance easier, but when the crystal is broken, life still goes on, for Dorian and Adaar both.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1

The hour was late in Qarinus, the Tilani estate silent but for the gentle rush of the wind outside the open windows. Dorian lay asleep, fingers curled around the sending crystal that had given him his amatus' voice to lull him to rest.

But the peaceful night was disturbed by heavy footfalls and Maevaris opening the door. Dorian stirred, breathing deeply as she shook his shoulder. "Get up, Dorian," she hissed, shaking harder. 

"What…?" he asked, stifling a yawn. "What's wrong?" The crystal locket fell against his chest as he sat up.

"Get up. Get dressed. Grab your emergency bag. We need to go." Her blue eyes were luminous in the dark. 

He was awake now. "What happened?" he asked as he got out of bed, pulling off his nightshirt to put on his robes. 

"Lord Abrexis has found out about his son's involvement, which in turn has blown the cover of many of the people in the Minrathous Circle. We need to go underground for awhile."

Dorian frowned. "Is Rilienus alright?"

"As far as I know, yes."

Dorian sighed in slight relief. "I take it there are people out for our blood tonight, hence the fleeing?"

Maevaris smiled. "You always were quick." She opened his closet. "This your bag?" she asked, holding up a leather pack.

"Yes, that's it." Dorian finished tightening his belts. "Toss it here." When she did, he tucked his nightshirt inside. It had been a gift from Bern. He wasn't about to see it come to harm. He put the pack on his back and took his staff from the wall. 

Down the hall, there was a muffled yell and the sound of heavy footsteps. Maevaris grimaced and jerked her head to the door, motioning for Dorian to follow. The tip of her staff glowed a dull blue, lighting just enough to see by. 

They made it to the back door without incident, but there were people waiting for them, bows drawn. Dorian threw up a barrier to intercept the arrows, thankful to his time with the Inquisition for giving him such honed instincts. Maevaris grabbed his magic with her own and pushed the barrier outward as a blast, knocking the assassins to the ground.

An arrow wooshed past Dorian's ear. "Snipers!" he called out, eyes straining in the dark to find the hidden men. He should've been paying attention to what was nearby instead. A hand caught the neck of his robes, grabbing the crystal's chain with them. The cold steel of a knife was pressed to his throat. 

Maevaris twitched towards him, staff held out in front of her, aura blazing. 

"Put the staff down," the assassin told her, pressing the knife closer to Dorian's neck. 

Neither one of them moved. Maevaris caught Dorian's eye and tilted her head forward, just enough for him to know she was ready. He called forth his mana and electrified his entire body, the force exploding from him. Maevaris shielded herself from the blast. The assassin's body locked up as the electricity coursed through him and Dorian leapt free, his robes ripping entirely as he did so. 

As the man began to regain his motion, Dorian threw more magic at him, free hand coming up to check the damage to his collar. He gasped as he realized the sending crystal was gone. He quickly scoured the ground, looking for the glint of gold and lyrium.

There! Right in front of the man's foot. He darted forward to grab it. The man stumbled towards him, gasping with pain, fumbling with his blade to block what he saw as an attack. His boot came down on the crystal's housing, and Dorian heard the sharp _snak_ of the metal snapping. He yelled and blasted the man backwards into the wall of the building, his head cracking against the stone. 

"Dorian!" Maevaris yelled. "We needed to get information out of him!"

But he wasn't listening. He picked the broken locket up off the ground, turning it over in his hands. The front door broke off completely when he tried to open it, but if the crystal was intact… 

It wasn't. The crack was deep, branched out like lightning. It no longer glowed. "Amatus," he said, swallowing. "Amatus, are you there?"

But he knew it was useless. He made to throw it away, but he sighed sharply and kept it in his hand. Perhaps it could be repaired? (It couldn't, but hope was better than despair.)

Maevaris walked up behind him, her footsteps audible in the dry grass. "All dead," she said sourly. "Now we know they'll try again, but we have no idea when or how." She noticed the broken crystal gripped in his hand. "I'm sorry, Dorian." The apology was genuine, even if it was tinged with frustration.

He shook his head and put it in his pocket. "What will we do now?"

She rubbed her temple. "I suppose we just get out of town and wait. I have people we can trust to get me information as it's found. Come on, Dorian."

"I need to get a message to Kirkwall," he said as he followed. "He'll worry otherwise."

"We can send it from an inn. Just avoid anything too identifiable. I don't know the extent of this mess yet." She looked up at the stars, seeing something Dorian couldn't. Navigation, perhaps? "We will probably reach a village by morning, but we may need to wait for a town for your message."

Dorian hefted his pack higher on his shoulder. "That's fine," he said. "So long as it's soon. I don't suppose a horse is also on the agenda?"

"There may be a mule in my vision," she said wryly. "Keep your fingers crossed."

\-- 

They stumbled into the inn of a tiny town on the Tevinter-Antivan border midway through the morning, too late for drunks to still be about, but too early for them to have not traveled all night. The innkeeper looked up, took in their dirty, rumpled appearances and the staves on their backs, then turned her eyes back down to the counter she was wiping. 

"Excuse me," Maevaris said with more sweetness than Dorian felt he could ever muster. "Are there any rooms available for the day? We'll be on our way by evening, but we could really use the rest."

The woman looked back up, her eyes narrowing. "Ten gold," she said. It was an outrageous price for a place like this, and they all knew it. 

"Of course," Maevaris said. She counted out the coins on the counter, pushing another two toward the innkeeper. "Just in case anyone asks about us," she said.

"See plenty of travelers 'round here. Can't be expected to remember all of them," she said in a monotone, pocketing the money before sliding Maevaris a key. "First room on your right up the stairs."

Maevaris smiled at her. "You're most kind. Come, dear." 

Dorian rubbed his eyes, but was awake enough to notice her not using his name. "One moment, my friend." He looked at the innkeeper. "Could you get a message to Kirkwall? I'd write it myself."

"Six gold." She handed him some vellum and a pen. 

Dorian nodded and took them. "I'll pay you when I finish, is that alright?"

"Sure." She went back to cleaning the counter.

Dorian brought the writing supplies upstairs to the room. Maevaris was facedown across the bed, already half-asleep as he entered and locked the door behind him. She mumbled unintelligibly at him and rolled onto her side, giving him room. 

"I'll just be a moment," he said to her. "Need to write this." There was a little desk in the corner near the single window, which he sat at.

"Careful," she warned, voice muffled in the pillow.

"I will be." He filled the pen with ink from the well at the top of the desk and unrolled the vellum.

He addressed the first note to Varric.

_To Viscount Varric Tethras of Kirkwall,_

_Notice of your accounts from your Tevinter publishers._

Followed by some gibberish text about how _Hard in Hightown_ was selling compared to his romance serial and new Orlesian series.

And then toward the bottom, past the point of most people's interest:

_Please pass the enclosed message to our friend Freckles._

_-Sparkler_

The second he addressed to _Adaar_.

_How have you been my friend? Life has been a little crazy for me, but I'm as well as could be expected. My apologies for the lack of contact until now. My friend and I are trying to sort everything out, but it will take some time._

_Would you believe my half of our necklace set is broken? Such shoddy workmanship! I would berate the jeweler myself if he weren't unbelievably dead. I will try to find a decent craftsman or else a replacement set, but Maker knows how long that will take. Feel free to search yourself if you've the time._

_I will write when I can, but like I said, things have been very busy._

_Take care of yourself. Be well._

_Kadan_

The letter to Bern he sealed with both wax and spell. Then he rolled the note to Varric around it, sealing it with just an ordinary bit of wax. 

He removed the money from his bag and went back to the innkeeper. "Here you are," he said. "This is going to the Viscount of Kirkwall."

"Fancy," she said unenthusiastically. But she took his gold just the same. "It'll get there."

"Thank you very much."

He wanted to hover, see if she _really_ sent it, but he knew such a thing would be fruitless. Even she probably didn't know the next time someone would pass through on the way to Kirkwall. So Dorian went back upstairs, closed and locked the door, removed his outer robes and curled up next to Maevaris to try and get some sleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm taking tag suggestions. I'm terrible at them.


	2. Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bern probably shouldn't be left alone. He is a little bit rash.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW for mentions of assault and unwanted pregnancy. Nothing graphic though.

Bern Adaar examined the crystal between his fingers. It had stopped glowing three nights ago and all attempts to contact Dorian had failed. He couldn't figure out why. With a sigh, he set it down on the kitchen table and rubbed his eyes. He hoped Dorian was alright.

The morning light streamed in through the high windows of the foyer, making the room bright and warm. Bodahn set a mug of coffee in front of him and smiled. "Good morning, ser. Everything well?"

Bern nodded and thanked him for the coffee, sipping it slowly. Through the doorway, he could see Sandal tinkering at his desk, laughing as something flashed. Struck with sudden inspiration, Bern grabbed the crystal and got up, walking over there. 

"Hey, Sandal."

Sandal looked up and smiled. "Hello."

"Could you tell me about the enchantment on this necklace? Don't _put_ one there, just tell me about it, understand?"

Sandal nodded and held out his hand. Bern put the crystal in it.

Sandal looked at it very closely, holding it up to the light, opening and closing the housing. "Broken," he said finally.

"It's broken?"

Sandal nodded. "Not this one. Other one. Broken. No more enchantment." He said the last bit very sadly. 

Bern bit his cheek. Now he was _really_ worried about Dorian. "Thank you, Sandal. Can I have it back?"

Sandal put it back in his hand and returned to his work. Bern slipped the chain back over his head, maneuvering carefully around his horns. Once, he would have needed both hands, but practice made perfect. Sometimes he forgot he ever had more than one to begin with.

"Good morning, Your Worship," came a voice from the hall. He turned to see Charter coming out of the library. She'd been away meeting contacts for a few days. 

"Good morning, Charter. Any news?"

"Everything is in the reports downstairs, ser. One matter, there's a possible ally in Hasmal. She wants to meet you personally. I also ran into someone who claimed to be a friend of yours, a man named Kaariss?" 

"Big guy, stubby horns?" Bern asked.

Her eyes twinkled when she smiled. "Ser, did you just ask me if a qunari was 'big'? But yes, 'stubby' sounds about right."

Bern laughed. "Sorry. But yes, that sounds like Kaariss. If I recall correctly, there's a small Vashoth village outside of Hasmal where his family is." He frowned. "I wonder why he's not with Shokrakar and the others."

"He didn't say, ser. He just asked me to pass along his greetings and request that you visit when you can."

Bern returned to kitchen, where Bodahn had set a plate of eggs at his place and was eating at his own. "Well, you said I need to go to Hasmal to meet this potential ally? I don't see why I can't take an extra day or two to see a friend."

"Very good, ser. Is there anything you need?"

He started eating his breakfast, then stopped. "Have you heard anything from Fenris, regarding Tevinter?"

She frowned, looking up as she thought. "Nothing too recent. Some whispers of a big slave uprising in Minrathous, but there are always rumors of slave uprisings in Minrathous."

"Nothing about Qarinus?"

"Sorry, ser. Do you want me to put some feelers out?"

He sighed, looking down at his food. "Please, if you could. I haven't heard from Dorian recently and I know the Qunari have been bearing down on the eastern Imperium especially."

"Of course, ser. I will keep you apprised."

"I appreciate it, Charter." He looked up at her and smiled. "Get your rest though, don't push yourself too hard."

She smiled back. "I will, ser. Thank you."

He dismissed her and picked unenthusiastically at his breakfast, suddenly not very hungry. Bodahn gave him a worried look as he got up from the table, but wisdom held his tongue. "Let me know if you need anything, ser," he said instead, and left the kitchen.

After a while, Bern forced himself to eat, then went to the library to go over Charter's reports. Thank the Maker for busy work.

\-- 

He received a message from Varric the morning before beginning the trip to Hasmal. "Here, Your Worship," the guardswoman said, lifting her visor. "Viscount Tethras said it was urgent." 

Bern took the scroll and thanked her, turning it over in his hands. No symbol in the wax. He broke it, feeling a brief tingle of magic as he did so. He unrolled it across his stump, pouring over the words. It was from Dorian, but written to disguise that fact. Something had gone horribly wrong, and now Dorian's crystal was broken, as Sandal had said. 

He brushed his thumb over the signature. _Kadan_. At least he was alive. With a heavy sigh, Bern tucked the letter away. All he could do was wait for Dorian to write again, he supposed. And for Charter's reports. Part of him wanted to charge into Tevinter and find him personally, but he knew that was a recipe for nothing but disaster.

So he prayed for Dorian's safety and set off for Hasmal.

\-- 

The potential ally was a young noblewoman with an elven lover who had been hearing about the Dread Wolf's growing power. The noblewoman had dark hair that fell in thick waves over her bare, brown shoulders. Her lover was stocky for an elf, with red weathered cheeks and tightly coiled curls that bounced when she moved. They sat close together, their fingers entwined, their ankles hooked around the other's. 

Bern promised to protect the world where they could be together and left the manse feeling even lonelier than ever, despite the bright jingle of coin in his purse.

Hasmal was warm and humid, the Minanter River flowing to its south and the Silent Plains to its north. Bern spent a while sitting under the awning of a restaurant, staring north, imagining he could see Qarinus over the vast, empty nothing. Charter, disguised as his servant, sipped her tea and didn't comment on his wistfulness. 

"You wished to visit this village, did you not?" she asked instead. "If so, we should stay the night here and go tomorrow."

"That's a good idea. Thank you." He stood and left the view behind.

\-- 

The village was named Ashtalan. Bern felt strange, looking around and seeing only qunari faces looking back. He still drew attention, but for once, it was the elf's fault, not his. The grocer was a tall woman with short, tightly curled horns. "Excuse me," Bern said. "I'm looking for a man, Kaariss? With the Valo-Kas Mercenaries?"

She gave him a long look, eyes narrowed, and didn't answer. 

Bern frowned, then said in faltering Qunlat, " _No Common?_ "

" _You speak like a stranger,_ " she said. 

" _I am. Please. I seek Kaariss. With Valo-Kas Kith._ "

" _Who are you to seek him?_ "

" _Adaar._ "

Her eyebrows raised. " _Adaar. Valo-Kas Adaar? Hero Adaar?_ "

Bern nodded.

She pointed at a street. " _There. Third house on the right, second floor._ "

" _Thank you_." 

The houses were squished together, sharing walls and roofs, but they were neat and well-kept, the outsides clean and washed. Several children played in the street, their horns still nubs. Bern smiled at them and they grinned back. 

Third house on the right, she'd said. He looked up at it. Was he just supposed to go in the front door and up the stairs, or was there some outer entrance he should use? One of the children walked up to him. " _Stranger, are you here to see someone?_ "

" _Yes. Kaariss?_ "

The child put hands to the sides of her mouth. "KAARISS! _THERE'S A STRANGER HERE FOR YOU!_ "

Charter winced at the noise, but Kaariss did indeed appear at the window. " _Do you know a name, Imekari?_ " He spotted Bern. "Adaar?" He smiled in relief. "It's good to see you, my friend. Give me one moment." 

He vanished from the window and a moment later came out the front door. He hadn't changed much in the years they hadn't seen each other. He was still broad and round-faced, gap-toothed when he smiled, with short, blunt horns. But there were lines on his youthful face now, lines of age and of worry. He looked at Charter. "Good to see you again, ser."

"You as well." She gave him a deep nod, then turned to Bern. "Take your time. I will be at the market when you are finished."

"Thank you." As she left, he turned to Kaariss. "Is something wrong?"

Kaariss sighed and waved Bern along the road, leading them away from the children and to a small park. "My family's been having… problems. I'm sorry to drag you into them, but I couldn't think of anything else to do."

"What do you need? I'm glad to help if I can."

Kaariss smiled. "I'm glad your status hasn't changed you, Adaar."

"Well." Bern raised his left arm. Dagna was making him a prosthetic, but it was slow-going. "It's changed me a little."

Kaariss' eyes grew wide. " _Vashedan._ What happened, Adaar?"

Bern shook his head, rubbed at his eyes with his free hand. "It's a really, _really_ long story. Suffice it to say, yeah, changes."

"Indeed. I hope you'll tell me the story someday." He crossed his arms across his chest, staring at the ground. "And I'm stalling, sorry. It's just…" He sighed and let his arms fall, turning around to stare at the clustered buildings. "You know nobles and such, right? People with too much money and time on their hands?"

Bern shrugged. "I know some, yes. Why? Do you need money?"

Kaariss laughed without humor. "I wish." He glanced over his shoulder. "Do you know any of those nobles who are the charitable sort? Who could be convinced to take in a child?"

"A qunari child?" Bern asked.

Kaariss nodded and turned away again, clasping his hands behind his back. "My cousin. She was… attacked. And became pregnant."

Bern inhaled sharply, let the breath slide out of his nose. "I know people if he needs to die," he said calmly.

Kaariss barked a laugh. "Oh don't worry about that. Katoh and I _took care_ of him." He spat on the ground near his feet. "Piece of shit," he muttered, then sighed, coming back to calm. "The problem is the child. She can't look at him. My mother is taking care of him now, and thank the Maker a friend of my mine was able to nurse him, but my mother is old. And everyone in this village will know him. How he came to be." Kaariss rubbed his face. "He's innocent, despite his father's crimes. He deserves to not be chained by them, you know?" 

Bern nodded. "Can I meet him?"

Kaariss turned. "Yeah, of course. My mother lives over here." He began leading the way.

"Why aren't you with Shokrakar and the kith?" Bern asked.

"My mother needed help," he explained. "But I need to get back to work soon, or she'll have more problems." He stopped in front of another little house and opened the door. "Mother!" he called. "I've brought Adaar." 

The woman who came to the entrance was definitely old, with deep wrinkles and a clouded eye, leaning on a short cane. She had her son's horns. Bern smiled. " _Shanedan._ "

She smiled back. " _Shanedan_ , Inquisitor. Welcome." 

"He's here to see the baby," Kaariss explained. 

She nodded and pointed into a sitting room. A crib was set up. "He sleeps now," she explained. "But will wake soon."

Kaariss motioned for Bern to follow him. The baby was indeed sleeping, his skin dark, soft white hair falling in waves over his horn beds. "He's seven months old," Kaariss explained in a low voice.

"Does he have a name?" Bern asked.

Kaariss shook his head. "We… didn't want to get attached. Imekari serves for now."

That was one of the saddest things Bern had ever heard. He reached into the crib, brushed the back of his finger over the baby's cheek. He stirred slightly, grabbed it with tiny, infant hands with perfect, tiny nails, and brought it to his mouth. There were little sharp points of teeth just starting to grow in.

"I'll take him," Bern found himself saying.

"What?" Kaariss blinked. "Adaar, are you sure? You must be so busy."

"It's fine. I'm less busy than I once was. I can't exactly be on the battlefield." He waved his stump. "Tell me the basics of what I need to know. I'll find someone in Kirkwall who can help me long-term."

"Are you not with anyone?" Kaariss asked. "I'd heard all kinds of rumors; I assumed one of them must have been true."

Bern smiled a little sadly, taking his finger back from the sleeping infant. "It's complicated," he said. He wiped his slobbery hand on his cloak. "So, taking care of a baby?"

Kaariss and his mother walked him through the basics—how to feed him, how to change him, how to get him to stop crying (sometimes). So it was quite some time before Bern made his way back to the market to meet Charter, the baby secured to his chest with a long wrap and a bag of supplies slung over his shoulder.

She raised her eyebrows. "Um, ser. Where did you acquire the… baby?"

"I've adopted him," Bern explained.

"Um." Charter stared, clearly dumbfounded. "Is there… anything you need me to do, ser?"

Bern patted the baby's head gently. "Yes, I'll need to get a message to my father. I… don't really know what I'm doing. I think his aid would be appreciated."

Charter nodded. "Very well."

"I don't suppose you know anything about babies?" Bern asked her with a nervous smile.

She raised an eyebrow, smirking slightly. "I know enough to get you home." 

"And that's why you're the best."

"I really am, ser." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a good thing Charter likes him, because she is not getting paid enough for this.


	3. Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taking care of a baby is a great unknown, but one Bern is willing to face head on.

By the time they got back to Kirkwall, Aban Adaar was already at the Adaar estate. (Bern loved thinking of it like that.) Bern's father looked much like his son, with long backwards-curling horns and pale gray skin, dotted with freckles. The lines on his face spoke of an upturned mouth and crinkled eyes. He greeted his son with a kiss to his forehead, then looked down at the baby. 

He was chewing on a thick braided leather cord, drool glistening on his chin. Dark purple eyes watched Aban as he came into view. Aban chuckled and gently ruffled the little one's hair. "If you let him go too long, he's going to chew a hole straight through it," he said to Bern.

"This is already the second one," Charter explained with a smile, before turning to Bern. "Ser, I've work to return to. Enjoy your day." She bowed and disappeared into the library. 

Bern looked at his father. "Can you get him out of the sling so he can crawl around a bit? He hasn't had much exercise on the journey. Unlike his father." Bern laughed.

Aban was somber as he lifted the baby out of the cloth, looking at what was left of his son's arm. Bern longed to shift it out of view, but he needed the stump to help hook the sling up over his head. He did so as quickly as he could, draping it onto the couch beside them.

After setting the baby on the floor to explore, Aban folded Bern into a hug. "I'm so sorry for everything you had to sacrifice, kadan," he said quietly.

Bern blinked, surprised, but then he held his father in return, tucking his face into his neck. Why was he crying?

They stayed like that in silence for a long moment, Aban rubbing the back of Bern's head as he cried. Then they heard a giggle and turned. The baby had somehow gotten on top of a table. Aban chuckled and quickly retrieved him. "No no, imekari," he said, tapping the tip of his nose. "That's not where you go."

The baby giggled and reached out toward Aban's nose in turn, tiny fingers straining to reach. Aban smiled and held him closer, so he could grab the tip of his nose and squeeze, tiny thumb slipping up a nostril. 

Bern laughed. "Was I like that?" he asked.

Aban pulled the baby away, tucking him easily into the crook of his arm. "You weren't much of a furniture climber no, but you were very grabby. You liked to dangle from my horns." He sat down on the floor and set the baby in front of him, watching him with a soft smile. "Does he have any toys?"

Bern nodded and brought over the bag. It was mostly nappies, but also a soft, yellow blanket and a small stuffed druffalo. At the sight of the druffalo, the baby's eyes lit up, and he held out his arms, making small blurbling noises. 

With a smile, Bern leaned down to hand it over, laughing as the baby clutched it to his chest, making little happy sounds. He sat down next to his father, watching the baby as he babbled excitedly at them and his druffalo. Aban smiled and nodded like he understood every word. 

"Bern, I think you'll need a nanny, someone to give you a hand," he said, then snorted. "Pun completely unintended."

Bern laughed too. "I take it you're not volunteering?" he asked.

Aban smiled. "Kadan, I love you, but you could not pay me enough to care for a qunari toddler again. The _headbutting_." He shook his head. "Mother and I were nursing bruises for two solid years." 

"Oh great, I'm so excited," Bern deadpanned. "Do you have someone in mind?"

"I do, in fact. Shokrakar has a sister, and she has four children. The eldest helped raise her younger brothers and sister, so I think she would be great asset."

"Shokrakar is Tal-Vashoth though, isn't she? How did she find her sister?"

Aban smiled as the druffalo was shoved into the baby's mouth. "They're not blood sisters, but they're sisters nonetheless." He picked up the baby, setting him on his outstretched leg. He bounced his knee, keeping his hands under the baby's arms. "Does this imekari have a name?" he asked.

"Not yet," Bern said with a sigh. "I've been thinking. Why did you choose mine?"

"It was a strong name, and it was a name of the land where you were born. Part of it was also a wish. The latter half means 'hardy'. We feared that our inexperience would hurt you." He took the baby back into his arms. "Meraad feared the most. She was a woman, but no tamassran. For days, she was afraid to even hold you, for fear she'd hurt you." He smiled, brushing back the baby's hair with his thumb. "But the first day you opened your hands, you grabbed a fistful of her hair and _refused_ to be parted. That's when we learned that our wish had been answered."

Bern smiled. "I shall have to think hard then. It's not a decision to take lightly."

"Not at all." Aban continued to bounce the baby, until he began to shriek with giggles muffled by the druffalo. "Take your time, kadan. This imekari won't be remembering things just yet."

\-- 

About a week after sending out Aban's message to Shokrakar's sister, a young qunari woman arrived at the estate. She was tall, and Bern could see Shokrakar in the intensity of her gaze and the curve of her tall horns. But her vitaar was decorative not combative, a vivid purple that matched her eyes, bright swirls across her cheeks and eyelids, with a single stripe down over her lip. Her white hair was twisted into thick, bouncy strands, glass beads gleaming at the ends. 

"Inquisitor?" she asked with a smile. 

Bern smiled back. "That's me. But please, Adaar."

"I'm Pana," she said brightly. "My aunt said you would be an easy boss."

Aban laughed from the other room, approaching the foyer with the baby in his arms. "She's not wrong. But I make no promises about this one." He nodded at the baby, who was chewing on another strip of leather, the fifth one he'd gone through.

Pana laughed. "We'll have to get him an ivory one! Leather is expensive. Plus, you _really_ don't want to teach him to chew on shoes and belts." She ruffled his hair, examining his horn nubs. "You're gonna have quite the rack, imekari," she teased. "Better grow a strong neck!"

The baby made a thoughtful noise, eyes fixed on the beads in Pana's hair. Quick as a snake, his hand came out and grabbed a handful of twists, pulling them toward his mouth, despite it already being occupied by druffalo.

Pana squawked and he shrieked with sudden laughter, while Aban extricated his fingers. She pouted as she rubbed her scalp. "Well, guess I'm tying the hair back."

"Probably wise," Bern and Aban said together, before laughing. 

\-- 

Aban left two days later, bidding his son and grandson a warm farewell. Bern walked him to the door, but before Aban could walk out, there was a knock. 

"Message for you, Your Worship, Ser!" said the guardsman, handing Aban a letter. 

Aban raised an eyebrow, then turned to place the letter into Bern's open hand. 

The guardsman blushed furiously. " _Uh,_ s-so sorry, Ser! I didn't—! Er, I just didn't think—!"

"That there'd be more than one qunari in Kirkwall?" Bern asked coolly. He sighed and grabbed a coin for him from the small bowl he kept for messengers. "On your way, ser."

"Y-yes, of course! Uh, thank you, Ser." He skittered away up the street.

Aban shook his head and sighed. But then he smiled and put a hand on his son's shoulder. " _Panahedan_ , Bern. Write when you can. Especially when you decide on a name." 

"I will, Father. Thank you. Give Mother my best."

"You know I will." 

They hugged for a long moment, then Aban left, the house oddly quiet without him. 

Bern turned his attention to the letter. He eased it open with his hand and teeth. 

_Adaar,_

_Weather has been warm but dreadful. I can't believe I miss the cold. Me. This is absolutely your fault. It is my sincere hope life has been treating you better than myself. I wish I could update you more thoroughly, but work has been busy, especially the "finding" part of it. Don't worry, I complain, but we're safe._

_I hope I can update you with more detail soon._

_Kadan_

He brought the letter to his nose, breathing deeply, hoping for a hint of Dorian's scent, his oils, anything. But the vellum smelled only of travel and Kirkwall. He sighed and tucked it away, then went upstairs to the bedroom. The baby was napping in the center of the great bed, while Pana dozed on the couch against the wall meant for that very purpose. Bern had told her he didn't mind her sleeping with the baby, even if it was his own bed, but she'd insisted on the couch. 

Bern sat down, trying not to jostle the baby overmuch. He succeeded. Besides a yawn and smacking of lips, he didn't wake. For a long time, Bern just watched him sleep, indulging in his melancholy. 

When the baby finally woke, he looked up at Bern and smiled, cooing quietly as he reached up. Bern, fighting back sudden tears, scooped him up to his chest, leaning back against the pillows as the baby held tight to his shirt. 

The baby settled against him and yawned, falling back asleep. Bern pressed his lips to the crown of the baby's head, and thought about wishes.

The next day, he began his research.

\-- 

It had been about three months since Bern had adopted the baby, and it was almost the little one's first birthday. Bern had written to Kaariss to ask when it was. On the back of Kaariss' reply was different handwriting, letters small and cramped. _Please, do not tell him about his father or me. Let him believe himself an orphan, if you decide to tell him you're not his blood father. Thank you for giving him a good life._

Bern had set the letter down and gone to sit with the baby and Pana as they played with blocks. The baby squealed with upset when Pana knocked over his tower, then was immediately better when Bern reached out and set one of them back atop another, beginning a new tower. 

Pana smiled at them and added one as well, and soon all three of them were building a structure as tall as the baby. He got upset when it grew too tall for him to reach, and knocked the whole thing down himself, giggling at the sound of the lacquered wood clicking together. 

Bern kissed the baby's nose and smiled at him. "When you turn one," he said, "you're going to get a name worthy of you, imekari."

"Do you want any help with that?" Pana asked.

Bern shook his head. "No, this is something I must do myself." 

"Ba!" the baby said, holding out a block toward Bern. 

Bern smiled and took it and nudged him in the tummy with a finger. " _Ba_ , hm? Is that me?"

"Baba!" the baby repeated, giggling and kicking his legs. 

Bern smiled. "I can live with that, imekari. _Baba_ it is."

After playing for a while longer, Bern retired to the library, where his books sat. Genealogies of Marcher families, dictionaries of old human languages, and one worn copy of a great list of Tevinter names. He'd gotten it on a whim, his mind heavy with thoughts of if it would be right to give a little qunari child the burden of a Tevene name, just because his father was hopelessly lost on a man he'd never even met.

In the end, he'd decided no, it wasn't, but still, it was interesting to flip through the pages, reading about famous names and the stories behind them. He hadn't known much about the time before the unification of the Imperium, so it was interesting to see its echoes in the names, with the eastern Imperium names having a different feel and cadance from those from the west—Dorian instead of Darinus, Halward instead of Honorius. 

The thought triggered something and Bern sat down at the desk, pulling the Tevene book toward him. He flipped until he found _J_ names, casting his eyes down the list. There were a lot of them. He grabbed one of the Kirkwall genealogies, paging through, scanning for something he couldn't quite remember. 

There, Viscount Julien Lafaille, son of Ser Michel Lafaille, the first viscount of Kirkwall, back in the Storm Age, when it was part of the Orlesian empire. He looked back at the Tevene book. 

_Julius_ : youthful ; notable persons: Julius de Stella, general of Archon Darinius; Julius Ferratus, First Enchanter of the Circle of Minrathous, 1620-1688 TE

More scanning of the Kirkwaller book turned up the spelling "Julian", a less Orlesian spelling to suit the general anti-Orlais sentiment of the Blessed Age. A truly Marcher name, with Tevene roots. A name meaning 'youthful'. 

Bern chewed on the end of this pen, then pulled it out to add it to his list.

\--

He didn't stop researching for the next three months, counting down the days until the baby's first birthday. Adrian, Cairbre, Ewan, Marcus, Donald… And yet he kept coming back to Julian. Each time he looked at his son's smile, each time he laughed at something simple, so full of youthful enthusiasm and exuberance. 

Yes, for him to keep that excitement and joy was a good wish, and one that Bern was willing to fight for. 

And when the 11th of Drakonis saw the sun's rise, Bern picked up his son and took him out onto the balcony to greet the dawn. "From this day forward," he said, touching their foreheads together, "you are Julian Adaar."

Julian cooed and grabbed Bern's face. Bern took it to mean acceptance.

"Happy birthday, Julian."


	4. Part 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian, meanwhile, is in Rivain, but not for much longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this chapter was originally twice as long, but I felt like splitting it up was a better choice. These next few parts are full of _emotions_.

Llomerryn was hot and humid, the air heavy with rain even when it wasn't actively raining. Dorian had expected it, but it was still difficult to get used to. He and Maevaris were playing at being Nevarran for now. It was working out well enough. He missed his clothes and his moustache, but the beard had proven an excellent disguise, even if he felt uncomfortably like Blackwall, er, Thom. 

Maevaris was posing as his wife, which amused them sometimes and other times made them cringe. They shared a small apartment up over a bakery, which at least smelled nice, even if they were woken well before dawn by the sounds of the day's work. 

And every two weeks, one of them went to a local park and took a letter from the third tree from the eastern entrance. They'd been Llomerryn for almost a year, after a good eight months wandering Antiva, and _still_ , there was no progress. Maevaris, returning from the park, crumpled the letter in frustration and burned it in her hand, brushing the ashes into the dustbin. "I'm tempted to just go back and solve this tedious mystery myself," she grumbled. 

"They've hired the Crows," Dorian said placatingly. "At least they'll get the job done."

"I _hope,_ " she said in exasperation. "How hard is it to track down a man, interrogate him, then quietly kill him?"

Dorian raised his eyebrows. "For children?" For that's what the vast majority of the Lucerni were. Well, not really. But even those who were the age of majority were _basically_ children. "Impossible, it seems."

She rolled her eyes and threw herself across the bed, running her hand over her face. "I need to shave," she grumbled, and got up to trudge over to the washbasin. Dorian watched her for a few minutes, then turned his mind to Kirkwall. He wondered what Bern was doing. 

He imagined Bern standing in Maevaris's place, leaning into the mirror as he ran a razor over his cheeks and chin, using short, even strokes. His imagination's picture wavered. Sometimes Bern held his skin taut with his other hand, sometimes he merely held the stump out to the side, out of the way.

Despite its uselessness, Dorian still wore the broken crystal around his neck. He wondered if Bern did the same. 

"Something on your mind, Dorian?" Maevaris asked, turning around as she finished. 

He shook his head. 

"This business will break soon," Maevaris said firmly. "I can feel it."

"I certainly hope so."

\-- 

A month later, the letter stated that Ulio Abrexis was dead and Rilienus had taken his seat in the Magisterium. The thread from Abrexis had led deep into a Venatori sect, now cleared out. There were quite a few new faces in the Senate. 

Dorian shaved to celebrate the news, humming happily as he stroked his smooth cheeks. Maevaris laughed at him, but he could see her relief too. "Well then," she said, clapping her hands together. "Shall we gather our things and return?"

When he didn't immediately respond in the affirmative, she frowned, then smiled. "I suppose you'll be dropping by Kirkwall then?"

He grinned. "You're damn right I will be. In fact, I think I've earned a little domesticity with my actual amatus, no offense, Maevaris." 

"None taken," she said. "We've got Rilienus and Luca now. We can manage without you. Keep in mind that if you don't come to the Magisterium sometime in the next two years you forfeit your seat."

"Of course. I'll show my face soon enough." 

She nodded and curled her hair around a finger, warming it up so it held the shape. "I trust you, Dorian."

His sudden laugh startled her into dropping her hair. "You say that, but I doubt very much I'm going to want to come back."

"I trust you," she said again, serenely picking her hair back up and calling the magic back to her fingers. "You always come back, dear."

\-- 

As they journeyed westward, Dorian's anticipation only grew. He imagined their reunion so many times that once or twice he woke expecting to find Bern in the bed beside him. He couldn't wait to hear how the efforts against Fen'Harel were going (presumably well, since the Veil was still intact) and how Bern had been filling his time otherwise. What books had he read to share? What stories did he have to tell? What friends had he made? What entertaining enemies?

They'd decided to take a boat up the Minanter River, then part ways at Starkhaven. Dorian still hated boats, but it was the fastest way and he was so _tired_ of being away. He spent most of the journey gripping the side of the river barge, eyes fixed on the horizon as his stomach roiled. Maevaris spent most of her journey hitting on the beardiest sailors. At least she was having fun.

Starkhaven was nearly as opulent as Val Royeaux, though less… Orlesian, which was nice. Bidding Maevaris a warm farewell, he entered the city and made his way to an inn to sleep and acquire gossip. He soon was connected to a merchant headed to Kirkwall and got a ride with her caravan. 

He still played at being Nevarran—no need to risk unease—and it had almost become second nature anyway. Kirkwall was in better shape than it had been when Dorian had last seen it. He had to admit, Varric served his people well. It was nighttime when they pulled into the city proper, but Dorian bid the merchant goodbye and made his way immediately up to Hightown. 

And there it was. The little estate with the Inquisition banner on the gate. Lights twinkled in the windows and Dorian felt warmth and excitement swell in his throat at the sight. He entered the garden and made his way up to the door, knocking three times.

He was expecting Bodahn at the door, or even Bern if he was lucky, but instead it was… a young qunari woman, dark-skinned and white-haired, violet eyes narrowed as she looked at him through the thin opening between door and jamb. "Can I help you?" she asked. "It's late and we're trying to get the baby to bed."

Baby? Dorian felt a sudden chill. The emotion in his throat turned hard. "This… is the Inquisitor's residence, is it not?" he asked.

"It is, but who are you?" 

Bern's voice echoed down the hall. "Pana, who is it?"

"He won't say," she called back. 

"You haven't let me!" Dorian bristled. "My name is Dorian."

"Dorian?" Bern sounded excited. "Let him in, Pana!"

She opened the door wide. And there was Bern on the staircase, cheeks no longer hollowed, eyes no longer harried. And cradled in his arm, staring at Dorian while he sucked on his thumb, was a little qunari child. 

Bern had waited once. Apparently Dorian shouldn't have expected him to wait again. The woman, Pana, probably his wife, was watching him like a hawk.

"Dorian, it's so good to see you," Bern said, coming down the stairs. "Where were you? What happened?"

"Oh, you know, the usual. Murderous magisters, plots and schemes, hiding out in Rivain." His voice was tight. Was Bern really going to act like nothing was wrong here?! "What about you? You seem to have acquired quite the beautiful little family." Somewhere in his heart, he thought he should have expected this. Bern had so much love in him, too much to be alone for long. At the very least, Bern would make a wonderful father. Somehow, this knowledge did nothing for the pit in Dorian's stomach. 

At first Bern smiled down at the baby, but then he frowned, horror dawning on his face. "Dorian! This isn't—" He looked down at the baby, who was clearly picking up on his distress, tears beginning to swim in his eyes. Bern continued, more softly. "I mean, he's my son, but—" He sighed in exasperation. "Pana, please, take him up to the bedroom. Dorian, kadan, come walk with me, _please_. I'll explain."

She raised her eyebrows at "kadan", appraising Dorian more thoughtfully. But she nodded and took the baby upstairs. 

" _Babaaa,_ " he whined, reaching over her shoulder. 

"I'll be back soon, imekari, I promise," he said gently.

" _Babaaaa!_ " The baby began to wail. 

But Bern put his hand on Dorian's shoulder and steered him back outside. Once the door closed, he let go, turning to face Dorian directly. "Kadan," he said. "Julian is my son but he's not—." He frowned, shaking his head. "He's not of my blood. Pana is his nanny. I swear to you, that is the truth."

The knot in his heart was easing, but the knot in his stomach only grew tighter."So you _chose_ this?" Dorian asked. 

Bern frowned. "I… Yes?" 

"You just… decided to adopt a _child._ Without asking me?"

The frown deepened, his face growing strange in the half-light coming out of the window. "You weren't exactly here to ask, Dorian."

"This is a _child._ You didn't think I'd like to be consulted?!"

"He's not yours!"

It was like a slap in the face. "Then what are _we_?" Dorian asked, his cheeks growing hot. "I thought we…" _I thought we were more than just bedpartners._ It was a stupid thought. He berated himself for it even as tears pricked his eyes. 

"What do _we_ have to do with my son?" Bern asked.

"Oh, I don't know!" Dorian threw his hands into the air, turning around. "Usually when two people are in a serious relationship, children belong to _both_ of them, but I guess not! What do I know?!"

"Do you want to be his father too?"

"No! I don't want…" _I don't want to become my father._ "I don't want any children."

"Then what's the problem?" Bern rubbed his head, squinting at Dorian in the dark. "He's not your child, he's mine."

"Then what does that make me, exactly? Your _mistress_?"

" _What do you want, Dorian?!_ "

" _I don't know!_ " He was exhausted, emotionally wrung out, nothing was going how he thought and he just… he just really wanted a hug. "Can we talk about this in the morning?" he asked quietly.

Bern exhaled, then moved forward, cupping Dorian's cheek. "Of course, Dorian." He leaned down, touching his forehead to Dorian's. "I missed you," he breathed. "May I hug you, kadan?"

Dorian chose to answer by pressing himself against Bern's broad chest, a bit softer now than it had once been. "I missed you, too."

They went back inside. From upstairs, they could hear the baby still crying. "Bodahn, can you prepare a guest room for Dorian?" Bern asked, quickly heading upstairs. 

"Of course, ser." Bodahn gave Dorian a small smile and motioned for him to follow. Dorian swallowed, his mouth dry. Guest room, huh? He wished he were back on the stupid boat with Maevaris. 

Bodahn made small talk as he and Dorian put blankets on the bed and opened up the windows to air out the mustiness. Dorian answered mechanically, then breathed a sigh of relief when the dwarf left with the lamp and he could curl up in the bed and block out the now-sporadic crying from the other end of the hall. 

This is not what he'd been expecting.

After a little while, the crying tapered off and Dorian emerged from the blankets to change out of his traveling clothes. He pulled a nightshirt out of his bag, pale green and still silken smooth, despite the near two years that had gone by. He pulled it over his head and returned to bed, burying himself in the comforter. 

He was almost asleep when he heard someone enter the room. A quick magelight revealed Bern, looking tired. "Sorry," he said awkwardly. "He usually goes to sleep much better than this. Too much excitement tonight, I guess."

"Sorry to ruin your night," Dorian said lightly. 

Bern sighed and sat down at the foot of the bed. "I don't want to fight right now, Dorian. Please?"

Dorian wanted to retort. _It's all about what_ you _want, hm?_ But he was tired too. "Then come here and stop talking," he said instead, letting the light flicker out and patting the bed beside him.

The mattress shifted, Dorian sinking slightly on it as Bern lay down, settling himself on the pillows. Dorian scooted up next to him, curling against his broad, warm chest, unable to stop the flutter of his stomach when Bern's hand came down to rest against his back. Bern smelled the same, despite everything. Somehow, it was comforting. 

"Can I kiss you?" Bern asked the darkness. 

Dorian hummed thoughtfully against Bern's chest. 

"Please?"

Unable to resist, Dorian smooched directly in front of him, hitting somewhere near Bern's nipple. "There you go."

Maker, it was good to hear him chuckle again, good to feel it against his cheek. "Come here, kadan."

He was scooped up onto Bern's chest, his pale eyes twinkling in the murky dark. 

"We still need to talk tomorrow," Dorian warned. "You can't kiss your way out of this one."

He couldn't quite _see_ the smirk in the dark, but Dorian could certainly hear it. "Can I try?" 

"I have no objection to that, so long as you know I'm not easily swayed." Despite his words, Dorian inched closer, their noses just touching. 

Bern's hand trailed down Dorian's shoulders, stopping at the small of his back. "I think I can make a good case."

"Oh, just kiss me already." 

Laughing made it difficult, teeth clacking, faces slipping apart as the quick rise and fall of Bern's chest knocked them apart, which only lead to more laughter and more jostling, but somehow, it was a better reunion than Dorian could have imagined. 

They slept for a little while, until they were woken by the sound of the baby crying. Bern yawned as he sat up, kissing the half-awake Dorian's cheek with a mumbled, "Duty calls." Dorian curled into the warm spot left behind, lulled back to sleep by the muffled burble of Bern's voice in the room next door. 


	5. Part 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes there's no good way to have an uncomfortable conversation.

He was woken again in the morning proper by the smells of breakfast and the distant sounds of people. He took a minute to remember the events of the night before, and rubbed his face in frustration. He didn't want to try to figure out this situation. He wanted to have sex. ( _Maker,_ did he want to have sex. He had missed it so much.) 

With a sniff and a final rub of his nose, Dorian got out of bed and went over to the washbasin. There hadn't been a clean cloth there last night, he was pretty sure. Ah well, it was what he needed. He washed his face and combed his hair, smiled a little as he indulged in a bit of kohl and a swipe of shine across his eyelids. He was _himself_ again, not some boring Nevarran merchant, and he wasn't doing any more traveling any time soon. He was going to be pretty, dammit. 

After one last fiddle with his mustache, he got dressed and went downstairs. The table was piled with breakfast, courtesy of Bodahn, including a small bowl of Tevinter olives. Dorian grinned as he grabbed it. "Where did you find these?" he asked Bern, who was sitting at the end of the table holding the baby upright atop it.

Bern smiled. "I know some of the market people," he explained. "They're brined, not fresh I'm afraid."

"Amatus, I promise I don't care." He popped one in his mouth, the tangy saltiness just wonderfully familiar and good. He removed the pit from his mouth and set it on the edge of his plate before eating more. 

Pana was still wary of him, glancing out of the corner of her eye as she leaned over to spoon food into the baby's mouth. Ahh, good old suspicion. He'd missed it. He ate his olives, then took some of the toast, pouring some honey onto it. The sweet of the honey and the sour of the brine mingled strangely in his mouth, but he found he didn't really care. 

"So," Dorian said, patting at his mouth with a napkin. "I suppose we need to talk." 

Bern made a small noise of assent. The mood chilled. "Pana, we're going to go out for a bit. Can you watch Julian? I promise, I'll give you the evening off."

Pana shrugged. "Whatever you need, Adaar. I won't get in your way." She smiled as she picked Julian up. "Come here, imekari. You wanna practice your walking a bit?"

He whined, rolling his head around to look back at Bern. " _Baaaaah,_ " he whined, flapping his hands uselessly. 

"We'll play in a little while, Julian, I promise." Bern kissed the top of his head, then stood, motioning for Dorian to follow. "Do you mind a walk around Hightown?"

"That's fine." 

Bern tossed him a sweater that had been hooked over the end of the bannister. "It's chilly in the mornings," he explained. "Wouldn't want you to catch cold."

Dorian smiled a little as he pulled it over his head. It was far, far too big. Hilariously so. It was perfect. Bern was smiling from the doorway, a short cloak tossed over his shoulders. "I'll buy you one that fits, if you like."

"It's fine," Dorian said, lifting his chin a bit. "There's no one I need to impress in _Kirkwall_."

That got a laugh. "Don't let Varric hear you talking that way. He's poured his heart and soul into this city; I half expect it to start spinning yarns of its own soon." 

Dorian reached up to straighten the cloak over Bern's shoulders, tightening the clasp. They smiled at each other for a moment, before walking outside and shutting the door behind them.

The morning was gray, the air heavy with a coming storm. Still, there were plenty of people about, shawls and sweaters tucked around them as they got their business done. Bern led him toward from the looming remains of the Chantry, cleaned up, but not rebuilt, a memorial to those lost. 

The courtyard was empty but for a Chantry banner, flapping each time the wind picked up. "I'll never understand how that mage felt," Bern said quietly, looking at it. "What drove him to such lengths. Why he did it."

"You don't need to waste time contemplating the actions of a madman," Dorian said. 

"Mm, I wonder how mad he truly was. That's an easy answer—oh, he was just insane. But it was _planned_ …" Bern shook his head. "Sorry, this was the best place I could think that there wouldn't be people around."

"The Veil's thin," Dorian commented, drawing a small wisp into his hand, before letting it drift back into the Fade. "Not that that surprises me. It's no wonder people stay away."

Bern nodded, tugging on his cloak. "So," he said after a moment. "You wanted to talk about Julian."

"Your son, yes." He sighed heavily, rubbing his temple. "I just wish you'd talked to me first. This is the sort of thing you're supposed to talk about beforehand, isn't it?"

"He needed a home, and I could give it. You weren't here, Dorian. I didn't know where you were, when you'd be back. For all I knew you were—" He swallowed, turning away. "I couldn't wait. It's been good, really good, having Julian and Pana around. I… wasn't in a good place when you left, you know that."

Dorian nodded. He remembered how… raw Bern had been. A thin veneer of his old self stretched over something painful and sharp. He was better now. He was eating well, according to the roundness of his cheek and the softness of his stomach. He was happier, calmer. Dorian couldn't deny that.

"I'm glad you've been well," Dorian said, and he meant it. "But I feel like you've put me in a strange position. Now, if I want you, it's not _just_ you. Now, it's you and your son. And if we were… If I were." _Normal._ An ugly word. He stopped himself.

"Our situation has never been particularly average," Bern said gently. "We've both had other responsibilities, other duties to see to. You've never gotten 'just me', Dorian. Before, you got _the Inquisito_ r, with all that entailed—the rumors, the scandal, the danger…"

"The messengers waking us at odd hours," Dorian added wryly.

Bern chuckled. "See? I still have responsibilities, of course, as do you, but things are… stable, at least for now, here. I think now, more than ever, you're getting _me_." 

It was a fair point. "I don't know anything about children," Dorian said quietly. "I'm an only child."

"So am I," Bern said with a smile. "That's why Pana and Bodahn are here. And why I keep close correspondence with my father." He took Dorian's hand in his, curling their fingers together. "You don't need to be his father if you don't want to be. You can just be Dorian. It's okay."

Dorian thought about it. He… had a deep anxiety about parenthood. His own parents had despised it. It had driven Alexius to ruin. Parenthood had always meant his father had _won_ , and Dorian was trapped in a marriage with a woman he could never love. He looked up at Bern, taking in his gentle eyes and his freckled face, his soft lips and sturdy horns. He looked at the man he loved and who loved him, who had always waited for him to return. This was _different._

"Perhaps… Perhaps I'd like to try it," he said in soft voice, almost lost to the wind. "For a little while."

Bern smiled, his eyes crinkling and twinkling, before hugging him tightly, pressing his lips to the top of his head. "I would love that. And I think Julian would too."

"You say that now…" Dorian warned.

"You'll be great, kadan," Bern insisted. 

They held each other there in the memorial, each lost in thoughts of the unknown future. Dorian was the first to come back from his daydreams. "We can still have sex, right?"

Bern's laughter into Dorian's hair was definitely messing it up horribly, but Dorian couldn't find it himself to care.

\--

"Hey, Julian," Bern said sweetly, leaning down to scoop him up. Dorian watched his pudgy fingers dig into the fabric of his shirt, wondering if those tiny nails would leave holes. "This is Dorian. Can you say hello?"

Julian regarded him seriously. "Lo," he said.

"Can you say 'Dorian'?" Bern encouraged.

"Dah." Julian frowned. "Dah-wn. Dahwawan." His lips squished in frustration. "Dah," he said with finality. He put his thumb in his mouth and his flopped his head against Bern's shoulder, glaring at Dorian like it was _his_ fault his name was difficult. 

Bern chuckled. "I think you've been renamed for now." 

"So, what, you're 'Baba' and I'm just 'Dah'?"

"I'm 'Nah'," Pana said with a chuckle. "He likes that vowel."

"Mmf," Julian agreed around his thumb.

"Do you want to hold him?" Bern asked, looking at Dorian.

Dorian felt a moment of panic. What if he dropped him? "I suppose I don't mind," he said in spite of it. 

As if sensing his discomfort, Bern talked him through it. "Just pick him up by his armpits," he said, holding out his arm a bit so Dorian could get a solid grip. "And tuck him against your shoulder, bringing your arm down to support his bottom." He smiled as Dorian's eyes widened at the full _weight_ of the baby. But never let it be said Dorian Pavus couldn't follow basic instructions. 

Julian looked up at his face, reaching up his free hand to pat Dorian's mustache. Dorian yelped as the hand closed around it and tugged. Bern doubled over in laughter. "He—He thinks it comes off!" he wheezed. 

"Well it doesn't!" Dorian pushed the hand back down. "That's a part of my face, thank you very much, ser."

Julian took to examining Dorian's ear instead, poking at the round tip, unlike his father and Pana's pointed ones. 

"That's an ear," Bern explained, reaching in to poke Julian's cheek with his knuckle. "Can you say 'ear'?"

"Mrr," he said.

Bern smiled and tugged his thumb out of his mouth. "Try again."

"Er," Julian said, then stuck the thumb back in. 

Bern beamed at him, his eyes shining. "Good job." He chuckled. "Want to try 'Dorian' again?"

Julian shook his head so hard it bonked into Dorian's chin. Dorian bit back a swear. Qunari children had _hard_ skulls. Bern, the traitor, was laughing again.

But when he was finished he wrapped them both in a hug, touching his forehead to Dorian's temple. "Thank you, kadan," he said quietly. He snickered when Julian tugged on his horn. 

"Ba!" he cried, holding out his arms. 

"Guess he's tired of me," Dorian said wryly. 

Bern took him back, settling him easily in the crook of his arm. "You'll grow on him."

\-- 

That night, they barricaded themselves in the guest room with stern words to Pana and Bodahn to not disturb them unless the house was literally on fire. It was a good, long night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Olives are delicious and anyone who disagrees can fight both me and Dorian.


	6. Part 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Julian begins to grow up, and children, unlike babies, ask questions.

Babies, it turned out, were pretty easy. Feed them, clean them, play with them—babies weren't complicated.

But as Julian got bigger and started talking more and acting more like, well, a small person, Dorian didn't know how to interact with him. It didn't help that Dorian left for a few months at a time to attend to his duties in Tevinter and returned to a child much bigger than the one he'd left. 

Julian could walk around the house alone now. Dorian eyed him whenever he entered a room, his yellow blanket trailing forever behind him. It put Dorian on edge, as if he were watching some dangerous pet animal roam around. Which he knew was ridiculous, but tell that to his blood pressure.

Bern tried to help as he could, but he was at such ease around the little thing, scooping him up one-handed so he could clamber around his horns and stick things in his ears. It still made Dorian feel oddly like a third wheel from time to time.

Even so, it was okay when Bern was there to rescue Dorian as needed. Then one evening while Bern was out at a meeting with the Viscount, as Dorian sat in the library reading, he saw Julian enter the room, thumb in his mouth, a book tucked under his pudgy arm. Someone had tied the blanket around his neck like a cape, probably Pana. All Dorian could think about was the train getting caught in something and choking the little thing, so he waved him over. "Come here, Julian."

Julian smiled, his tiny baby teeth somehow off-putting to Dorian, and he toddled over. Dorian smiled at little uncomfortably back. "Let me fix your cloak, shall I?" He retied it so that the knot rested across his chest, pulling the train up over his shoulder to hang like a proper cloak. 

Julian giggled and spun around, his head turned over his shoulder to watch it rise up in the air. "Fanku," he said after he stopped, feet unsteady with dizziness.

"You're welcome," Dorian said, smiling more comfortably now.

Julian looked confused for a moment, deep in child-like thoughts. Perhaps he'd had a purpose for coming to the library? He then smiled and took the book he'd been holding in both hands, lifting it up for Dorian to see. "Do-ran, read?" 

"You want me to read to you? Don't you want Pana to do that?"

Julian shook his head emphatically. "Do-ran. Pease?" He held the book up again, his little arms out as straight as could be.

And overcome, Dorian agreed. "Alright then," he said, setting his book aside. "Come here." He patted his lap as he'd seen Bern do many a time. 

Julian clambered up, hitting Dorian rather hard with the corner of the book a few times as he got settled, but Dorian didn't comment on it beyond small, involuntary noises. He looked more closely at the book. _The Seer's Yarn._ It appeared to be a collection of stories and poems for children from all over Thedas. The table of contents was sorted by nation. "Do you have a favorite, Julian?" he asked. 

"Vata tezpadm!" he cried excitedly. 

Dorian was baffled, but it sounded… dwarvish? He looked under the section for Orzammar. Ah, a nursery rhyme. _Veata Tezpadam._ He turned to the page. There was an illustration of a deepstalker, with its wormy body and round, tooth-filled mouth. 

"Vata tezpadm!" Julian said, and he hit the picture. The author's note under the title said it translated to "stop, deepstalker". Well, that made sense at least.

"Ready?" he asked.

Julian nodded.

" _Mindless he wanders, all unw—_ "

"Finger!" Julian interrupted. 

"Excuse me?"

"Do finger!" Julian mimed tracing his pointer finger under the words. 

"Ahh," Dorian said. "You want to follow along?"

Julian nodded enthusiastically. 

"Alright then." He placed his finger at the beginning of the line. " _Mindless he wanders, all unwary,/Where small dwarven should not tarry._ "

"Vata tezpadm!" Julian cried, kicking his feet.

Dorian found himself smiling. "Just so." He continued, letting Julian do the refrain each stanza.

When it was finished, Julian kicked his legs and yelled, "Again!" So they read it again. Afterward, they read about how deepstalkers came to be, but that one seemed a little over his head (and didn't have a catchy refrain), so they read _Veata Tezpadam_ again. 

Julian yawned. The evening was getting late. Dorian's throat was dry from speaking. Julian yawned again and turned away from the book, curling up against Dorian's chest. Dorian tucked the blanket cloak around him and gently stroked the soft hair on top of his head, just slightly knobbly where his horns would grow in. 

The front door opened and closed. "Baba…" Julian said with another yawn. "Do-ran, wanna see Baba."

"He'll come in here in a moment, I bet," Dorian said. He wasn't sure how well he could lift the little one. Little as he was, Dorian's legs were a bit numb from being still so long.

"Doorrrrraaaaan," he whined, gripping his shirt. "Wanna see Babaaa."

"There you both are," came Bern's voice and he appeared in the doorway. He smiled broadly at the sight of the two of them sitting together. "Did Dorian read to you, imekari?" he asked as he walked over and kissed both of them hello. 

Julian smiled. "Yeah! Vata tezpadm!"

Bern chuckled. "I know, that one's your _favorite_. Did Dorian do okay? Was he better than your baba?"

" _Hmmmm_ ," Julian said thoughtfully. "Do-ran sound nice. But Baba sound funny!" He giggled.

Dorian raised an eyebrow. 

"I do silly voices," Bern explained with a smile, tickling Julian's stomach. "Now, it's late, imekari. Let's get you ready for bed." He picked Julian up out of Dorian's lap, holding him in the crook of his arm. Julian's thumb found its way back into his mouth. "Thank you, Dorian. I hope he wasn't bothering you."

Dorian smiled. "No, not at all. I daresay we had fun, didn't we, Julian?"

"Read t'morrow?" Julian asked around his thumb.

Dorian patted his foot. "I don't see why not."

"Yaaay!" He kicked his legs. "G'night, Do-ran."

"Good night, Julian."

There was a warmth deep in his belly. He might still not understand children, not really, but he thought maybe, with these two qunari, he was willing to learn. 

\-- 

After nearly five years of work since the end of the Exalted Council, the Veil was finally saved. Dorian had learned long ago to never doubt in the ability of Lord Comte Bernart Adaar of Kirkwall.

Bern returned from the front lines exhausted and limping, but alive. Julian shrieked with excitement upon seeing him, his feet thumping heavily on the wooden floor as he ran to the foyer, Dorian at his heels. 

Rather than pick him up, Bern sat down right on the floor to hug his son. Dorian sat down beside them, holding them tightly. 

"It's good to see you home, Adaar," Pana said from the stairs. She'd been getting ready for bed, her hair half-done, face naked.

"Yes indeed," Bodahn said from the kitchen, beaming. "You're just like the Warden, you are, ser. Not one to go gentle into that good night, so to speak."

Sandal peeked around the doorway to his workshop. "Hello!" he said happily.

"Hello, everyone," Bern said, kissing Dorian's cheek. "It's so good to be home."

"Baba! Dorian teached me how to read for real!" Julian said excitedly. 

"He taught you for real, huh?" Bern said, rubbing the base of Julian's horns, just starting to break through the skin. 

Julian made a small noise, leaning into the touch. "Baba, can you do more like that?"

"Itchy and sore, huh?"

"Uh huh. But it feels different when you do it."

"Yeah, it's like trying to tickle yourself." Bern got up. "Dorian, you know where I keep my horn balm, yeah? Can you get it?"

"Of course. I assume I'll meet you both upstairs?"

Bern held out his hand for Julian to take, smiling when the little one did, tiny fingers curling tightly around his first two fingers. "Yeah, please."

Dorian fetched it from the pack of personal things among Bern's other bags, bringing the jar upstairs. Bern was sitting in the bed, back against the headboard, while Julian sat on his lap, getting the base of his horn massaged.

They both smiled at him when he entered the room and joined them on the bed, setting the horn palm, lid off, on Bern's thigh.

"Thank you, kadan," he said warmly, scooping a bit onto his fingers and rubbing it into the skin of Julian's horns. 

"That's nice," Julian sighed.

"I'm sure Pana shared her's, didn't she?"

"Yeah, but Baba's is better."

Bern smiled at that.

"Your father has that effect on people," Dorian said, resting his head against Bern's shoulder. "You know, some people think he works for Andraste."

Julian looked up at Bern wonderingly. "The Chantry lady? The Maker Bride?"

"Mm hm," Dorian said. "The very same."

"Is it true, Baba?"

Bern nudged his head back down so he could get at the other horn bed. "I don't know. It's not like She talks to me or anything. But… sometimes I think so."

"Pana said you saved the world." Julian looked thoughtfully at Bern's bare feet, wrapped in bandages (Dorian would get at those blisters later). "Did you?"

"I did. But it cost me a friend." Bern wiped his greasy hand on his own horn. "I don't regret anything though." He pulled Julian into a hug. "The world has you in it, and Dorian, and I wasn't going to let anything bad happen." He looked at Dorian. "Thank you for helping watch out for him while I was gone."

"It was my pleasure," Dorian said, reaching over to tickle along Julian's sides. "We had fun, didn't we?"

Julian giggled. "Yeah." Then he paused, looking thoughtful. "Baba, you and Dor-yan love each other, right?"

"Yes, we do," Bern answered, kissing the top of Dorian's head. "Why?"

"Pana said when people love each other, they get married, like Mr. Bodahn and his wife. Are you married?"

Dorian felt a blush rush up into his cheeks. "Not right now, no," Bern said with a little smirk. Dorian had seen that sideways glance at his face. The _traitor._

"Why?" Julian asked.

"Weddings take time to plan. We've been very busy," Bern explained with a yawn. He scooted down on the bed, Julian giggling as he rode his legs. Bern sighed as his head hit the pillow. 

Julian brought thumb up to his mouth to chew on, clearly still thoughtful. "Wa's a 'wedding'?"

Bern closed his eyes, but he still answered. "It's a biiig party for all your friends to come and watch you get married. You wear pretty clothes and jewelry, and a Chantry mother helps you make important promises."

"Like what?"

Dorian picked him up. "Come here, Julian. Let your father sleep. I'll answer your questions." 

"Wait!" He squirmed out of Dorian's grip, flopping back down onto the bed. He crawled over to Bern, who was watching with one eye half-open. "Good night, Baba. I love you," Julian said, and kissed Bern's cheek. 

Dorian thought his heart might actually burst, fuck. Was he suddenly on the verge of tears?! He sniffed and quickly rubbed his eyes. "Come on, Julian. You wanted to know about wedding promises?"

"Yeah!" 

Dorian took his hand as he led him back downstairs. "So, the Chantry mother asks…"

\-- 

The questions didn't cease for some time. But once Dorian felt like he had explained every nuance of weddings he knew, Julian spread out across his lap and made a serious face at him. "You should marry Baba."

Dorian felt his face heat up again. He coughed. "I wouldn't be _opposed_ to the idea, but…"

"But?" Julian blinked owlishly at him, tilting his head.

Dorian faltered. "We both have… responsibilities. I have my job back home and your father has you and all the people who look up to him."

Julian frowned. "So? You said it's just a big party and lots of promises." 

"Yes, but married people… They live together, have families together. I don't know if we can do that right now."

"Why?"

"I have be away for long periods of time…"

"So?"

"Well, that makes it difficult."

"So? I don't think Baba cares. He _loves_ you. He's sad when you go 'way, but he's always happy when you come back. So… just always come back! Then you can be married." His eyes went wide. "Oh! If you and Baba get married, does that make you my baba too?"

Dorian felt even more flustered than before. "I suppose it would. What do you think of that?"

Julian chewed on the end of his thumb thoughtfully. "I like you, Dor-yan. Do I have to call you Baba too?"

Dorian chuckled. "No, you don't. I think that would be confusing."

Julian nodded, the ends of his new horns prodding Dorian in the thigh. "What do you call _your_ baba, Dor-yan?"

"I called him Father."

Julian turned his head in confusion. "All the time?"

"Yes, all the time."

Julian looked worried. "Do you want me to call you 'Favver'?" He scrunched up his nose. Clearly the thought was distasteful. 

Dorian chuckled and stroked the hair back off of Julian's forehead. It was getting long. "No, you don't have to call me Father."

"Mrph." Julian stuck his thumb in his mouth, sucking thoughtfully. 

"Some people like 'papa'," Dorian suggested. "But that's very close to 'baba'."

"Mm," Julian agreed. 

"I've heard the Viscount use 'dad'."

_Pop!_ The thumb was freed. "Dad?"

Dorian nodded. 

Julian giggled. "D for Dor-yan, D for Dad!" 

Dorian tickled him. "Oh, so you like that one, huh?" 

Julian squirmed and giggled. "Y-y-y-yeah! Get married to Baba already!" He tried to give Dorian a stern finger wag, but the effect was ruined by his continued laughter.

"Okay, okay. I'll ask him."

"Promise?" Julian held out his littlest finger. "You gotta promise."

Dorian curled his pinky about Julian's. "I promise. Now, I think it's time you got ready for bed, dulcia."

Julian rolled off Dorian's legs down to the floor, getting back up onto his feet. "Okay, Dor-yan."

Dorian felt a little sad, for some reason. "Not Dad?" he asked.

"Not 'til you get _married_ , silly!"

Dorian chuckled. "Alright, that's fair. Now let's go. You can't go to any sort of wedding with a dirty face."

\-- 

The next day, after Pana had taken Julian out for a walk and a visit to the Hightown Park, Dorian brought Bern breakfast, kissing his face until he woke up. Bern grumbled a little as he was roused, but it was with a smile.

"What's the occasion, kadan?" he asked, yawning and stretching as he sat up in the bed. 

"The world being saved again, of course." He set the tray in Bern's lap. 

"Fair enough. Thank you for breakfast." Dorian sat next to him as he ate, mulling over his thoughts.

"So, Julian and I had an interesting conversation last night," he began.

Bern smirked as he licked a bit of porridge from his lips. "About weddings, I assume."

"Among other things. He's quite adamant about things he wants. I _do_ wonder where he gets it." He gave Bern a teasing nudge. "But we were talking about marriage and what it means and—"

Bern chuckled as Dorian continued. "Yes," he said.

Dorian blinked. "'Yes' what?"

"Yes, I'll marry you."

Warmth blossomed in Dorian's chest. "Oh, well, good. I'd been rather at a loss of what to do if you'd said no."

Bern pushed the tray of food onto the nightstand so he could roll over to cup Dorian's face. "As if I ever would," he said quietly. "Come here, kadan."

Dorian hoped Pana and Julian would be gone a good long while.

\-- 

Wedding planning was exhilarating, debilitating, and insane, all at once. Once word spread of the coming nuptials, Josephine showed up at the estate's door, pen in hand, her eyes ablaze. "Please, allow me to assist in planning your wedding," she demanded, her polite words belied by the ferocity in her tone. 

And well, Dorian wasn't about to say no.

Bern smiled from his sofa as she paced the sitting room, making notes as she talked. Dorian leaned against the doorjamb, trying not to laugh at Josephine's sheer exuberance. "It will need to be held somewhere large," she was saying. "A Chantry is traditional, but I suspect there are those who would object to a magister marrying there. Perhaps at the Keep? I'm sure the Viscount would oblige. And the clothing! We cannot have the Inquisitor marrying in simply his best suit! No, no, no, I will contact Madame Vivienne. She will no doubt know the best tailor for the job. But _what_ will it be? White is traditional in the Southern Chantry, but the North varies. And I've. No idea about Tevinter, actually." She paused, her pen floating over the parchment. 

"Red and gold, if you've the money to have a big affair," Dorian supplied helpfully. 

Josephine added that to her notes. "Interesting! White, red, and gold _are_ all traditional Chantry colors, so I don't think there'd be an issue with incorporating more Tevinter elements within reason—if you want to, of course, Dorian."

Bern turned to look at him, genuinely curious. 

"I…" He wasn't sure actually. "It might be nice," he said slowly. "Within reason. I don't think we want all the magical elements of an altus wedding in the Viscount's Keep. Things are liable to catch fire."

"Yes, let's avoid that in Kirkwall, shall we?" Bern said with a laugh. "I think it's been on fire enough for several lifetimes."

"Agreed," Josephine said crisply, making a note. "If I may ask, what sorts of magical things are there?" 

Dorian hummed, crossing his arms as he thought. "Depends on the couple, really. Some mages go overboard and enchant their clothing to do things like flash or burst into flames of various colors—non-consuming flames, of course—or invite fire dancers to entertain the crowds. Others go more subtle and do the ceremony at night surrounded by magelights."

Bern raised an eyebrow. "That's subtle?"

"It's quite pretty, actually. Imagine standing in a dark room, surrounded by candles. It's quite romantic, especially under a field of stars."

"Oh…" Josephine said wonderingly. "That does sound lovely. I wonder if perhaps we could do something similar for the reception…"

"It would take quite a few mages to maintain," Dorian warned. "And I'd rather not be one of them, to be quite honest."

"I'm sure we could find plenty among the College of Enchanters," Josephine said easily. "The Inquisitor is still quite popular with them." Another note. "I'll see what I can do." She turned to Bern. "I don't know if we'd want to include any sort of… Qunari elements, if they exist."

"Well, Qunari don't marry, so I doubt it." He cupped his chin. "It… might be nice to be painted up. Something really fancy. I don't think I'd want to use actual vitaar—it's expensive and honestly, I think I'll be too impatient to clean it all off before kissing my new husband." He smiled up at Dorian, eyes half-lidded. Dorian felt a little excited shiver trip down his spine. 

"Rivain _does_ have a plant-based body paint they use for weddings and important festivals," Josephine said, half to herself as she scribbled. "I'll see if I can procure some. Perhaps it could be painted on by your parents? That's traditional there as a pre-wedding ceremony."

"That would actually be really nice," Bern said. "I've not seen them in a while."

"Weddings are wonderful for bringing families together!" Josephine said brightly. "Dorian." She turned to him, pen poised. "Will you be inviting any of your family to participate in the wedding?"

He briefly thought of inviting his mother, but no, he wanted a clean break. Besides, he doubted she would journey all the way to Kirkwall to see him marry a "beast". 

"No, thank you. Maevaris will definitely be receiving an invitation however, and perhaps a few more of my compatriots from the Lucerni. I'll make up a list for you." 

"Very good. Try to get that to me as soon as possible, please." 

"Of course."

While they were talking, Julian came into the room, followed by Bodahn. "He was feeling a bit left out!" Bodahn explained as Julian clambered up into Bern's lap, his stuffed druffalo in hand. Bern smiled and patted his head. 

"That's fine, Bodahn. Thank you."

"It's no trouble, ser. Sounds like the wedding planning is going well."

Josephine beamed at Julian. "Hello there! Do you remember my name?"

Julian gave her a shy smile and ducked behind his druffalo. "Josie," he said, his voice muffled.

"That's right!" She squatted down so her face was even with Julian's. "Do you want to help us decide what kind of food the wedding should have?"

"Yeah!"

Dorian smiled as he watched Josephine and Julian talk, with occasional helpful input from Bern. He'd never looked forward to his wedding before, but now, with it actually before him, he found he was filled with excitement. 

"I'll write to my parents," Bern said. "I'm sure they'll want to be involved in the planning."

Josephine nodded, standing up. "Of course. Everything so far is just in the conceptual stage. Let me know immediately of any changes, Inquisitor."

Bern raised an eyebrow at her.

"Adaar," she corrected herself. She smiled.

...Wait, Bern's parents were coming? The former antaam Tal-Vashoth Bern's parents? 

Dorian swallowed around the sudden dryness in his mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Dulcia" (DUL-kee-a) is Latin for "honey-cakes". It seemed like a good Tevene word for "sweetheart".


	7. Part 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian is a pessimist. Charter indulges it.

Okay, so Bern's parents weren't so bad. (How _could_ they be, when they raised Bern? Dorian was almost disappointed in himself.)

Bern was the spitting image of his father, a freckled dark-haired qunari that gave Dorian an excellent idea of what he had to look forward to in twenty years or so. (The idea that he and Bern would still be together in twenty years gave him a small thrill of excitement.) But Mother Adaar had her own charm, taller than even the two male qunari in the room, even without counting the spiraling horns, her white hair drawn back in a thick braid that hung to her waist. Unlike Bern and her husband, both quite fair, her skin was dark and streaked with white scars. But her eyes were the same yellow-green as her son's, and there was something of him in way she stood, shoulders squared, jaw high. Dorian realized that Bern had been imitating her whenever he needed to appear confident. He wondered if Bern realized this, or if he did it unconsciously.

They… didn't get off on a good foot. Her glare was piercing, all the more unsettling due to her eyes' looking like her son's. "I take it she isn't fond of me," Dorian said in a low voice to Bern.

Bern grimaced. "Father warned me about this. She doesn't like you being a magister, no."

"Oh, is that all? She can join the rest of Thedas, I suppose." He couldn't deny that it stung, especially since he had divested himself of his blood family. He'd had a quiet little thought that perhaps he could have another one, a better one… But he was too pessimistic to be surprised really. 

"Kadan," she said, hugging Bern tightly. "It is good to see you. Though we must talk."

"You're not talking me out of marrying Dorian, Mother," Bern said wryly.

She swore under her breath. 

"Come and meet Julian," he said, steering her inside, away from Dorian. 

Bern's father finished unloading the horses and sending them on their way with the stablehand. He gave Dorian a small smile as he hoisted the bags up onto his shoulders. "Hello. Dorian, right? I am called Aban."

"Pleasure to meet you, ser." He was wary, but Aban seemed to understand.

"She will come around," he said, looking up at the house. "Meraad is stubborn, but not blind. So long as you keep the magic to a minimum."

"I can do that."

He smiled. "Good. Can you also open the door?"

Dorian did, letting Aban maneuver inside. 

Julian, sitting in Meraad's lap, looked up as they came into sight. "Dor-yan!" he said brightly. He waved. "This my granmuvver!"

"Grandmother," Bern corrected gently.

Julian frowned. "Gran… muvver," he repeated. Bern smiled as he shook his head.

"Some people say 'Nana'," Dorian said, smiling at Meraad. 

"Nana!" Julian said brightly. He tilted his head back, smiling up at his grandmother. "Can I call you Nana?"

For a moment, she looked ready to refuse. But Dorian knew no one could resist that face. "Yes, you can," she said at last. 

"Yay!" He kicked his feet happily. "Thank you, Nana."

"You're welcome, imekari." She gave him a small smile and pinched his cheeks. 

"What about me?" Aban asked. 

Julian frowned as he thought. "The regular word is… granfavver?" he asked Bern, who nodded. His frown deepened. "I don't like that."

Aban chuckled as he sat down on the armchair across from the sofa. "Call me whatever you like, imekari."

"Noooo that's even _harderrr_!"

Josephine entered from the kitchen, a cup of tea in hand. 

"Josie!" Julian said brightly. "What do you call your granfavver?"

" _Abuelo_ ," she said. 

"Ab… Abwewo." Julian scrunched up his nose. He didn't like that one either.

"But when I was your age, I called him _nonno_ ," Josephine continued, smiling around her tea.

"Nono!" Julian repeated happily. "Nana and Nono!" 

"I think it's been decided," Bern said warmly. 

Josephine beamed at him. "Julian, you are a darling little boy."

He giggled, the tips of his ears pink with a pleased blush. 

Meraad looked thoughtfully down at her grandson, gently combing her fingers through his hair. "Imekari, do you like your father's companion?"

He looked up at her, tipping backward so his head rested against her chest. "Dor-yan?"

"Yes, him."

Julian grinned. "Yeah! He teached me to read! And he loves Baba lots and lots, just like Baba loves him lots and lots and _lots_! Baba says we're gonna be a family!" He paused. "Which is weird, 'cause we're _already_ a family, I think."

Dorian's heart was threatening to burst. Dear Maker, was this going to keep happening forever? (Did he actually want it to stop?)

Meraad pursed her lips, then sighed. "Very well. I suppose he cannot be a _bad_ man."

Julian frowned, sitting up to grab his feet, staring at them in his hands. "Some people think Dor-yan is bad," he said softly. "Pana and me hear them at the market sometimes. They think they're being _real_ quiet, but they're not. They say things like Dor-yan uses bad magic to _make_ Baba love him. Or that he's a spy from, from Tuh. Tuhver." He frowned harder. "From the place from the Drasty stories." 

Meraad looked to Bern in confusion. Clearly she wasn't very familiar with the Chant. "Tevinter," he said, answering her silent question. She nodded in understanding.

Bern opened his arm and Julian crawled out of Meraad's lap into his, curling against his chest. "Baba, why do people say things like that?"

Bern hugged him, leaning down to kiss the top of his head. "It's because they don't know Dorian, and the only people from Tevinter they've ever met or heard about are bad. They don't know any better."

" _Are_ people from T'vinter bad?"

Bern looked at Dorian, his expression complicated. Dorian decided to help him. He came and sat beside him on the couch, taking Julian's hand. "There are bad people everywhere, dulcia. But Tevinter is a very old country, that has done some very, very bad things."

"Like what?"

"Like killing innocent people to do very powerful spells."

Julian frowned. "You don't do that, though?"

"Of course not." Dorian stroked his cheek, then pulled his hand away, bringing a magelight to his hand. "I only do good magic."

Julian smiled as the light twinkled, reaching out to touch it. Right as Julian closed his hand over it, Dorian let it vanish, smirking a little at Julian's confusion. He poked his nose. "There are always going to be people who say those things about me, unfortunately," Dorian said sadly. "I'm used to it. Don't worry about it, dulcia."

"You're sure?" he said uncertainly. "They were _really_ mean." He put on his best "fierce" face. "I'll beat 'em up!" 

Dorian smiled and ruffled his hair. "I'm sure. They're just words. You don't need to pick any fights." 

Julian laughed as he reached up to grab Dorian's hand. "Okay, Dor-yan. I won't." There was something sneaky in his expression though. Dorian suspected Julian wasn't being entirely truthful, but he couldn't help being pleased.

Josephine was all smiles until she touched a hand to her mouth in surprise. "Oh! Ser Bodahn asked me to come and tell you all that lunch was ready!"

Bern hoisted a squirming Julian up onto his hip. "Babaaaaa, I can waaaaalk!" he whined, limbs flailing as he tried to get free.

"What? I can't hear you down there."

"Babaaaaa!"

Dorian saw a smile on Meraad's face before she noticed him looking and frowned again. He smirked, but bit his tongue as he considered teasing. Seemed like a good way to get himself punched. At least right now.

\--

"It's bad luck for the couple to see each other before the wedding!" 

Dorian rolled his eyes, but allowed Josephine to lead him down the street. He was staying at the inn with Maevaris for the three days leading up to the wedding. Josephine had pushed for a week, but Julian had protested. "Josephine, you _know_ this is silly," he said. 

"Perhaps, but you two have been through enough. There's no need to court bad luck."

Well, he couldn't exactly argue with that. He sighed. Maevaris would be arriving in the evening, and though he was excited to see her, the idea of being away from Bern before such a big event had him on edge. 

It was hard to imagine sometimes that this was really happening. He half-expected to wake up in Rivain, he and Maevaris still in hiding. 

The inn was a nice one, clean and well-kept, just down the street from the Viscount's Keep. Josephine fetched the key from the desk and led him upstairs. "It's a suite," she explained. "You won't be sharing a bed, but the two rooms are connected via a small sitting area. I'll be by later to talk through the final scheduling. I'm sure Lord Tethras will also be by to say hello."

The room was small, but nicely laid out. Josephine hung his wedding clothes up in the bureau and gave him a smile. "Anything else you need for now?"

Dorian thought about it. He had books to read, he had his clothes and cosmetics… "Nothing I can think of," he said. "I'll let you know later tonight."

"Very good. I'll see you then!" She gave him a quick hug, which caught him off-guard, and flounced away. He smiled, shaking his head. Well, she was having fun. He hung up the rest of his clothing and stacked the books on the bed, settling in to read.

When Maevaris arrived that evening, she kissed both his cheeks, smoothing her hand over his shirt. "You look good, Dorian," she said warmly.

He kissed her cheek back. "And you look radiant as ever, Maevaris. Thank you for coming. I'm not sure if I'm expecting it all to go to shit, but in case it does, I'm glad you're here."

"Shh. It will be lovely. You will look amazing and you will stuff yourselves silly with food and wine and you will dance and be merry and then go home and pass out before you can consummate anything." She smiled at the last bit. 

"Speaking from experience there?"

She chuckled. "Thorold and I never officially married under Tevinter law, but we did have a little ceremony of our own. It played out mostly like that."

"Good to know." Dorian smirked. "You know, it's funny, the two of us. You married a dwarf, and I'll be marrying a qunari. Funny how life goes."

She chuckled. "Funny indeed. Now, show me what you'll be wearing so I can berate you."

"Yes, ma'am." 

He opened the closet and pulled out the ensemble. He laid out the _churidar_ first, pale gold silk trousers that clung nicely to his calves—because, honestly, the world deserved to see them. Then over top, the _kurta_ , blood red and embroidered with red thread—not noticeable at first, but apparent when you saw it up close. Gold brocade, half a handspan wide, swirled around the deep V of the collar and the ends of the sleeves. It shimmered as he ran his fingers over it. The gold made up a pattern of circles and suns, heavily Chantry-themed. He'd figured, well, he was marrying Andraste's Herald, might as well go for the religious imagery. Finally, over that, the short knitted _dupatta_ , the same cream as the churidar, with gold embroidery around the ends. 

Maevaris whistled softly. "You went really Qarinian traditional, huh? I don't think I've seen a magister get married in a kurta in a long time."

"What can I say? I'm proud of my roots." He grinned. "Got to have some sense of tradition when marrying a qunari, after all."

She laughed. "Fair enough." She looked over the clothes thoughtfully. "I hope you have some earrings and gold makeup, dear."

"I do," Dorian said. "What sort of savage do you take me for?" He took out his bag of cosmetics and showed her the clip-on earrings. Big, gold, rather ostentatious things, but he was getting _married_. If there was ever a time to be grandiose, he'd found it. 

Maevaris nodded in approval. "Well, I am pleasantly surprised," she said. "You'll look lovely. Now, the real question: will your husband?"

Dorian chuckled. "I certainly hope so, but I don't mind being the arm candy in this relationship. I'm doomed to that fate regardless." He touched his cheek. "I _am_ gorgeous, after all."

Maevaris raised her eyebrow. "Mm _hm_ ," she said. "Is that a gray hair I see?"

"Oh, ha ha, very funny." He turned to the mirror though, justto prove her wrong.

Oh fuck, there _was_. He plucked it out. "A fluke," he said stubbornly.

She patted his shoulder. "Age comes to us all, Dorian." She smiled, her eyes glinting evilly. "And you have crow's feet."

"You are a terrible friend," Dorian said. He rubbed the corners of his eyes. "Bern likes them. He says they make me look distinguished, so _there_ , Miss Laugh Lines." 

She continued to smile. "What can I say, I enjoy my life. You, on the other hand, are going to have absolutely terrible frown lines if you keep making that face." She poked between his eyebrows. 

"Why do I spend time with you?" he asked.

She kissed his cheek and smiled. "Because you have no friends."

They smiled at each other, the mood gentle. "I really appreciate you coming, Maevaris. It wouldn't be a party if you weren't here."

"I wouldn't miss it for the world, Dorian. Now, let's put these nice clothes away before you ruin them."

\--

Varric came by that evening with Josephine, and they had a wonderful game of Wicked Grace followed by Diamondback. There was drink and friendly gambling and Dorian lost a good deal of gold to Josephine before he declared himself bankrupt and went to go flop onto his bed, warm and full and just slightly drunk.

It was strange. He hadn't been drunk in a while. He hadn't been purposely avoiding alcohol or anything, but… When he was with Bern and Julian, it didn't even occur to him that he _should_ drink more than just the glass or two he and Bern shared during dinner or before bed. 

He curled around the pillow, breathing deeply. He thought of his mother, alone with her bottles, and smiled to himself. He wasn't her. Nor was he Halward. He was Dorian, and soon he'd be a better parent than either one of them had ever been. Perhaps, in some ways, he already was.

Nothing tasted like victory as much as proving someone wrong. Even if that someone was himself.

\-- 

The warmth didn't last long. 

As the promised day drew closer, Dorian's anxiety only grew. Being at the inn gave him a great opportunity to listen in on gossip and it… wasn't great for his heart. The wedding was on everyone's lips, particularly when they didn't notice him sitting there with his book. The kindest rumors were that Bern was being misled, turned from the righteous path by Dorian's devilish good looks. The worst painted him as a blood puppet, with Dorian the wicked master. He sighed into his mug, brooding (though he would never admit that). Such a public event had been a bad idea. Better to marry quietly with friends, perhaps. _So I can be someone's secret again?_ An old and painful thought, unbidden.

He drank his brandy.

The day before the wedding, Charter came to the inn, her expression grave. "We have increased security with the Viscount's assistance, but I ask that you be prepared. Lord Adaar will always be a formidable man, one-armed or not, but he is capable of great naivete."

Dorian raised his eyebrow. "So you come to me?"

She gave him a small smile. "You are a pessimist. Surely you were already preparing for the worst." 

He returned her smile, wondering if his exhaustion showed on his face. "I may have been considering an 'ornamental' cane that could be used as a staff in a pinch," he admitted.

"Done," she said. "Color scheme?"

He showed her the clothes and she nodded. "You'll have it first thing in the morning. Does it need anything specific?"

"I have some crystals I can use. As long as you can get me a nice-looking stick, I can make it work."

She nodded again. "Anything else you need, ser?"

"For this to be over?" He sighed as he sat down on the chair beside the window.

"That I can't do, ser. Lady Pentaghast sends her regards, by the way. She is bringing some of her Seekers in Training to help with security."

"That will help, yes. Thank you. Is Mother Rachelle briefed on all of this?"

"Yes, she's been made aware to duck out of sight if things get out of hand."

"Good. Kirkwall really doesn't need to lose any more holy women. They'd find a way to blame the mage, doubtless."

"I agree with that assessment, yes." 

Divine Victoria, upon catching wind of the upcoming nuptials, had of course offered to officiate, but Bern had gently insisted she stay in Val Royeaux for safety reasons. Kirkwall was certainly better than it had been, but it still wasn't a place for the Divine to wander around. Mother Rachelle had been her replacement. An overall pleasant woman, gentle-tempered and open-minded. She'd taken Dorian's suggestions for changes well, and he didn't doubt she would do a fine job.

Presuming it didn't all go to shit, of course.

"You will have your emergency staff," Charter said, all business. "Sleep well, ser. Lady Pentaghast will collect you in the morning, at 10."

"Thank you. Good evening, Charter."

Maevaris entered the room via the sitting area as Charter left. She put her arm through his. "Come. Let's go down to the fancy bars and judge the nobles."

"Last to count five Marchers trying much too hard to be Orlesian buys the first round of drinks."

"Deal."

It wasn't much of a bachelor party—a little drinking, a lot of laughing—but he wouldn't trade it for anything. 

\-- 

Dorian was up at dawn, completely involuntarily. He washed himself, but didn't get dressed yet. He watched Kirkwall beginning to stir out the window, then gave up on that and washed his face again. Weddings were supposed to be cheery affairs, but he couldn't feel anything but trepidation. 

Thank the Maker Charter showed up shortly after the marketplace outside opened, handing him a smooth red cane. It had a polished golden ball for a grip. He tested the weight of it, gave it a few test swings, letting magic crackle along its length. "It will serve," he said, tapping it against the ground. 

"Good. Need anything else?"

He was tempted to ask for brandy. "No, I'm fine. I'm sure you've more to coordinate."

She smirked, her ear twitching up to follow her mouth. "You know me so well. See you later."

After she left, Dorian happily embraced the distraction of his new miniature weapon. Like he'd told Charter, he had some crystals that would serve to amplify the power a bit. They were small, mostly decorative things—designed to hang from the end of a normal staff—but they wouldn't hurt. He tied the string of them around the bottom of the handle. They glittered as he swung the cane, flashing with the imbued magic. 

It was no Staff of the Void, but it would do the trick in a pinch. 

Maevaris appeared at the door, yawning, her hair still in curlers. "What in the world are you doing, Dorian?"

"Preparing for the worst." 

She shook her head, yawned again. "And you thought you'd make a bad magister," she said. "I'll help you get ready in a few minutes. Let me finish waking up."

"Take your time." He set the cane on top of the chest at the foot of the bed. He washed his face again. 

Maevaris emerged, her hair done, but still in her dressing gown. "Come here, Dorian. Let's get your face to rights."

Normally he would insist on doing it himself, but Maevaris was a master of cosmetics. Under her brushes and careful fingers, the Dorian he saw in the mirror was an absolute vision. 

"You are a sorceress without compare, Maevaris," he said, turning his head to catch his face at all angles. 

She smiled. "I know. Let me at your hair." She parted it asymmetrically, combing it to the right and coaxing it into a gentle curve. Then she took some of the gold makeup she'd used on his eyes, diluted it with a bit of water from the washbasin, and daintily stroked a line of it into his hair. Subtle, but just enough to draw the eye. 

"There," she said warmly as she wiped her hands clean, then put Dorian's earrings on. "Now get dressed. Touch your face or hair and I will tie your hands to your hips." 

He chuckled. "Yes, ma'am."

Luckily the clothes he'd chosen were easy to put on, much more so than typical Minrathous fashion. He felt a little naked without his leather and armor bits, but damn did he cut a fine figure. He picked up the cane and figured out a natural way to pose it with the entire ensemble. 

Maevaris, now garbed in a dress of her favorite blue, watched, amused from the sitting area. "You're acting like you're about to fight a duel."

"I just may well be! Better to have a bit of practice, I think."

She put her hands on his shoulders, holding his gaze. "It will be fine, Dorian. It will be wonderful."

Maevaris was a very smart woman, but stubborn even in the face of being completely wrong. It was better not to argue. "Now, you need to eat. Something light, but can you imagine the embarrassment of your stomach groaning in front of all those people?"

"I can now, thank you, Maevaris."

"You're welcome. I suggest toast and jam."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter~


	8. Part 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A marriage and a gift more valuable than gold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! Enjoy some fluff and a dash of smut

Cassandra arrived just as the clock in the hall chimed ten. "Why, Cassandra, you shined your armor for the occasion!" 

She smiled and flexed her arm, letting the sunlight gleam off the polished metal. "Of course. I may hate formal clothing, but formal _armor_ must be treated with care."

"I see you chose the Inquisition motif," he commented, pointing at the eye on the pauldrons. 

"I am here as a friend of the Inquisitor, not as a Seeker," she explained. "Thus, I chose Inquisition armor."

He nodded. "A fine choice."

"Well, hello there," Maevaris said, appearing from her room. "Dorian failed to mention how handsome a woman you are, Lady Pentaghast."

She did an admirable job of hiding the embarrassment on her face. "Cassandra. Please."

"This is my dear friend, Maevaris Tilani," Dorian explained.

"A pleasure to meet you." Cassandra held out her hand to shake. Maevaris took it, amusement glittering in her eyes. 

"Varric has told me much about you, Seeker," she said.

Cassandra groaned. "Of _course_ you're friends with _Varric_."

"Friends? Oh no, I'm _related_ to him. By marriage, of course." Maevaris smiled broadly. "Oh, did he have _stories_ to tell."

Cassandra purposely turned her gaze on Dorian. "Come, we'll be late if we dally much longer."

"No compliments on my outfit?" Dorian asked as they walked downstairs. "Perhaps I need to change…" 

She rolled her eyes. "You look wonderful, Dorian. I would've thought you knew that."

He grinned, preening at the compliment, fished for as it was. "Have you seen Bern this morning?"

"I have," she said. They greeted the two other Seekers who had been waiting outside. Everything seemed quiet so far.

"And?" Dorian asked, as they made their way uptown to the Viscount's Keep. "How does he look?"

She turned to him over her shoulder, a teasing smile on her face. Cassandra Pentaghast? _Teasing?_ "You will be impressed," she said enigmatically.

"Impressed good, or impressed bad?" Dorian asked.

"Good."

One of the Seekers, a young woman with a long blonde plait down her back, grinned and winked at him, mouthing, " _Very_ good."

"Well _I'm_ excited," Maevaris said. 

Dorian was caught somewhere between excited and anxious, his stomach all in knots. He could feel his heartbeat in his chest, in the tips of his fingers. 

As they approached the Keep, there were people. Dorian frowned as he heard what they were yelling. He gripped the cane tightly in his hand, keeping his eyes focused straight ahead even as he watched the periphery. They weren't violent (yet), just yelling the usual shit about blood magic and corruption.

He jumped as Maevaris put her arm through his. He could feel the magic buzzing across her palm. She was ready to throw up a barrier or blast someone away from him at a second's notice. He put his hand over hers, smiling weakly. 

The yelling died down abruptly as the Keep doors swung shut behind them. The Guard Captain Aveline greeted them with a solid handshake. "Sorry about the people outside," she said. "The Inquisitor didn't want them forcibly removed."

Dorian couldn't help but be bitter. "Of course not. What message would _that_ send? 'Herald of Andraste so far corrupted he had citizens attacked by the city guard'?" 

"Dorian, hush," Maevaris said. 

The Guard Captain looked at him. "The Inquisitor is waiting in the Viscount's office with his parents until the ceremony begins. I need to go keep an eye on my guardsmen, but I wish you both the best."

"Thank you. I appreciate the work you're doing."

She smiled. "It's my job." She turned to Cassandra. "The Viscount promised me cake. Make sure that happens."

Cassandra nodded solemnly. "I will hold that dwarf to his promises."

The two women shared a moment of mutual Varric frustration, then the Guard Captain left. 

The throne room hadn't needed much decoration. Benches had been added for people to sit, and food tables lined one of the walls. Bodahn and some of the Keep's people were attending them, getting everything ready.

"Dor-yan!" Julian yelled, sprinting forward to hug Dorian. He knelt down to embrace him. "Dor-yan!"

"Hello, Julian. Have you been good?" Dorian quite liked the outfit he'd arranged for the little one. A neat buttoned jacket, red with bright blue embroidery. "Do you like your jacket?"

"Yeah! It's purple!" He leaned forward and whispered excitedly. "But it's _not_ purple."

"He had a lot of fun with that," Pana said warmly. "We hung the jacket up on the bureau and he ran back and forth. 'Purple! Not purple! Purple!' etc."

Julian giggled. "And it's _shiny_. Dor-yan, you're shiny too!"

"I am. I like it." 

Julian smiled then looked up at Maevaris. "Wow! You're almost as tall as Pana!"

Dorian stood up and smoothed his kurta. "Julian, this is my friend Maevaris."

"Mayv. Mayver. Mayvrs." He made a face like he was eating a lemon.

Maevaris grinned as she leaned over to talk to him. "You can just call me Mae, sweetie." 

"Miss Mae," Julian said. "Baba says is p'lite to call ladies miss."

"It _is_ polite, very good. So you're Julian?"

He nodded.

"It's very nice to meet you, Julian. How old are you?"

"'m fow!" he said proudly, holding up four fingers. 

"Wow, four whole years old! Is it better than being three?"

Julian crossed his arms, nodding sagely. "Oh yeah. Free-yer-olds're dumb."

"Oh my. Glad to see you've become enlightened since then." She was having too much fun. 

Vivienne swept into the room, accompanied by a handful of mages. "Dorian, darling, you look lovely," she said, kissing lightly past his face, careful not to touch his makeup. "I can only hope Adaar looks to match."

"If we both hope hard enough perhaps it will come true," he said wryly. "It's good to see you, _Grand Enchanter_."

"I see my exploits have not escaped notice," she said warmly. 

Dorian laughed. "You are many things, but subtle is not often one of them, Madame."

"Funny, I could say the same of you, my dear." She patted his cheek. "I shall seat myself. Your gift is at Adaar's estate."

"You are too kind, Madame. Thank you."

More of the old Inquisition trickled in. Sera had to be intercepted by Maevaris to prevent her from smearing his foundation, and Dorian had to intercept Dagna before she started asking invasive questions about how Maevaris managed her femininity. Cole appeared suddenly beside them as they took their seats, and Sera's swearing had Dorian scrambling to cover Julian's ears.

Cullen had a brief fight with Cassandra about whether or not his dog was allowed to sit with him. (He won, but was relegated to the back of the hall.) Things got rowdy when the Iron Bull appeared with his Chargers, a cask of Fereldan beer balanced over one shoulder. He grinned at Dorian, pointing at it, his eyebrows waggling. Dorian scoffed (but thanked him quietly later).

A pair of Grey Wardens, bearing a message of goodwill and a gift from Thom and Stroud, came and went, insistent that work took them elsewhere. Merrill came in behind them, flowers woven into her hair. "I found it!" she said triumphantly. Dorian briefly wondered if Merrill and Sera were going to get into some kind of altercation, but Merrill happily glommed onto Dalish and Skinner, bypassing Sera entirely. He breathed a sigh of relief. 

Everyone loved Julian, and Dorian could see the little one was beginning to tire of the attention. Cole took care of that though, picking him up right as he began to meltdown and assuring Dorian that he would keep people from bothering Julian until he was ready to deal with them again. Since becoming more human, Cole had more difficulty vanishing from memories, but he could still do "don't notice me" vibes apparently. The next time Dorian thought to check on him, Julian was wearing Cole's hat, wiggling his feet excitedly as he flopped the brim up and down. Dorian smiled. 

Then, as everyone was settled, Josephine and Varric entered. Josephine was resplendent in a gold dress, even if her clipboard was still attached to her hand. She took a brief headcount as Varric went around greeting everyone. 

"Damn, I hope we're not too late! We got caught up with the Adaars!" came a booming voice. Dorian turned to see a group of qunari enter, led by an older woman with a heavily scarred face and a broken horn. He recognized the rust-colored woman behind her as Bern's old flame. He expected himself to resent her presence, but he felt completely neutral. Score one for growing as a person he supposed.

The leader grinned at Josephine. "It's the tiny gold human! Hey, Kaariss, you remember her?" She nudged a man behind her, big even for a qunari, with short, squat horns. The big man blushed and fumbled with his vest. (No shirt underneath. Just the vest. Dorian supposed he'd seen worse-dressed qunari.)

"You are Shokrakar and the Valo-Kas, yes?" Josephine asked.

"That's right. I've got here Kaariss, Taarlok, Herah, and Katoh." Herah was a pale woman with both horns cut down to her skull, with astonishingly teal eyes. Katoh, a towering, broad-shouldered woman with a greatsword hanging from her belt. These two reminded Dorian most of the Qunari he'd had run-ins with in Qarinus, with their neutral-but-somehow-threatening expressions. 

Josephine made a note. "Please, be welcome! Sit. We will begin momentarily."

The anxiety, which had dissipated slightly with the friendly crowd, returned in earnest. "Where is Sister Rachelle?" he asked Josephine.

"Ah," Josephine said. "About that…"

As the doors opened, a lilting Orlesian accented voice said, "Did you all really think I would miss this?" Leliana smiled as she entered.

She was dressed up as lay sister, her red hair plaited neatly over her shoulders, a copy of the Chant under one arm. 

Josephine sighed. "Your Perfection, you _know_ —"

" _Leliana_ , Josie. Please." As she passed, Leliana touched Josephine's lips. "I will officiate this wedding, whether the mothers like it or not."

"Did you _sneak out_?" Josephine asked in shock.

Leliana smiled. "One nice thing about _enormous robes_ is that you can put just about anyone in them." She looked to Dorian, her eyes glittering sharply. "Even if they do make you look a bit _pregnant_." 

Oh Maker, how had she _heard_ that? Why did she remember it after nearly five years? For a second, his life flashed before his eyes.

But she was soon giving him a pleased pat on the arm. "Congratulations to you both." She took her place up near the front of the hall. "Since your parents aren't here to give you away, would you like to just stand up here to begin?" she asked kindly. 

Dorian nodded. As he walked up the aisle, Maevaris reached out to briefly squeeze his hand and take the cane, smiling. He watched as Josephine left to go fetch Bern and his parents. His gaze remained fixed on the tall doors, only vaguely noticing Varric sit down and set a notebook in his lap, pen poised. He was aware of Leliana shuffling through the pages of her book, marking them as she hummed to herself.

The doors creaked as they opened, and Dorian felt his heart stutter in his chest.

He had been expecting something like Bern's vitaar. Short, thick lines, not really forming any particular pattern beyond "symmetrical". But his bare gray skin was instead painted with long, delicate strokes, starting from the Inquisition eye on his breast and expanding outward like lace, all the way up over his shoulders and down to his elbows. Similar lines decorated his face, reminding Dorian of Dalish blood writing, the swirling lines traveling down his nose and across his cheeks. 

Though he wore no shirt, Bern was draped in gold. Gold hung around his neck, and there were golden cuffs hooked onto his horns, connected with tiny glittering chains that swung as he walked. 

His parents walked with him on either side while everyone clapped. Bern looked at Dorian, smiling so broadly that Dorian just… began to cry, overwhelmed. He couldn't imagine how long the painting had taken, and Bern—fidgety, restless Bern—had sat for the hours it had surely taken. 

Both Meraad and Aban kissed their son's forehead, then gestured for him to climb the stairs to stand before Dorian, his smile radiant enough to light the damned room. Dorian dabbed carefully at his eyes, laughing at his own sentimentality.

Bern took his hand, blinking back tears of his own. "Don't you dare get me going too, Dorian," he said.

Dorian could only laugh weakly, reaching up to touch Bern's cheek. "You look amazing," he said quietly.

"I had to try and match you, didn't I?" Bern chuckled. "Not that I could ever succeed."

Leliana coughed lightly. "Now, now! We've a wedding to begin, don't we?"

The little crowd laughed.

Bern smiled, but kept his eyes on Dorian. "By all means, begin, Your Perfection."

" _Leliana_ ," she grumbled. But she cleared her throat and supported the book against her arm, smoothing her hand over the pages. "The Maker came to Andraste, drawn to her goodness and her light. And in so doing, did He ask that she become His Bride. In this we see that love is the Maker's greatest gift, given to the poorest shepherd and the richest king." She smiled as she looked up at Bern and Dorian. "And when I look upon the two of you, I see that love. I see the Maker stretching out His hand to say, 'Past sins are forgotten. For My Bride's Herald has found love in a Tevinter magister. Speak no longer of the past, but turn your eyes forward to the future.'" 

She placed her hand over theirs, squeezing gently. "Maker's blessing on you both as you take this step forward together." Sparkling blue eyes turned to Bern. "Now, I believe you had something you wanted to say, Adaar?"

Dorian blinked as Bern's hand withdrew from his to duck behind the sash at his waist, pulling out a folded piece of paper. He unfolded it with his thumb and began to read. 

"Dorian, you know I'm not the best with words. But I didn't want to try to improvise something this important." His ears were pink as he looked down at the paper. "I want to make you promises. Because you know I will keep them." He smiled as his eyes scanned the words. "I promise to be your personal heater in the winter. I promise to buy you new nightshirts when the ones you have begin to go threadbare. I promise to listen when you complain about my book collection. Or lack thereof." He looked up at Dorian and winked. "I promise to keep you close in my thoughts even when you're away. I promise that my door with always open at your key." He grinned at that one, and in the back, Dorian heard Varric snicker. "I promise, that even when we disagree, I will never touch you in anger. I will never attack the vulnerabilities you have trusted to my care. I do _not_ , however, promise to just shut up and agree with you, no matter how much easier it would be. You deserve better than that." 

Oh no, Dorian was crying again. _Kaffas,_ why wouldn't it just stop?

Bern leaned in closer, touching the tip of his shoe to Dorian's, a no-handed hand hold. Dorian smiled as he dabbed at his face.

"I promise Julian will have his own room soon." Dorian laughed. Bern tucked the paper away and hooked his fingers around Dorian's. "And I promise, swear, and vow, here, in front of the Divine and everyone, to love you, Dorian Pavus."

Dorian laughed as the tears fell too fast for him to wipe away. "You bastard, I don't have anything prepared."

"You're a hard person to surprise," Bern teased. 

"And yet still you manage it." He sniffed. "I'll make you two promises of my own then. I promise to love you." He looked down at their hands, brown and gray, soft and rough, neat nails and ragged ones. "And I promise to always come home."

_Ha_ , now Bern was the one crying. Dorian held fast to his fingers, making him laugh as he swiped at his face with the stump, just slightly too short to reach. 

Julian walked up to them, looking serious.

"He has a question for you, Dorian," Cole said.

So Dorian knelt down. "What is it, dulcia?"

Julian chewed on his knuckle before asking in a small voice, "You love Baba, but do you love me too?"

Dorian wrapped him up in a hug, lifting him up as he stood. "Of course I do, Julian. Don't you ever doubt it." He kissed his temple, then blew a raspberry on his cheek, making Julian giggle. He set him down, wincing a bit as his back popped. He wasn't going to be able to manhandle the kid much longer. "Now go back to sit with Cole. We're almost done." 

"Okay!" 

Leliana smiled as he scrambled back up into Cole's lap. "Are we ready for the rings?" she asked.

"I think so," Bern said. "I'm sure everyone wants to get at that food!"

Sera and Bull cheered. 

Josephine walked up, handing the rings to Dorian. Two simple bands of stormheart, shifting color from green to violet as they moved. 

"With this ring, I become your husband," Dorian said, sliding the larger ring onto Bern's hand. He didn't have a left ring finger anymore, so the right would have to do. 

Bern took the smaller one from Dorian's palm. "With this ring, I become your husband," he repeated, and slid it onto Dorian's finger. "Stormheart, rare and strong and beautiful, and sparks when magic is applied," he said, smirking.

"Shut up and kiss me already," Dorian said with a laugh.

Bern was happy to oblige. The guests cheered. 

Leliana laughed. "Boys, I was supposed to say something first!" She shook her head when they didn't respond, still smiling. "Well," she said, peering around them at the gathered crowd. "By the power vested in me by the Maker and His Bride, I declare you to be wed. Maker's blessing on you both."

"Mmf, thank you, Leliana," Bern managed before Dorian tugged him back down by the horn. 

By the time the two of them managed to get over to the buffet tables, Dorian's makeup was smeared across Bern's face. Gold was a good color on him. Dorian resolved to dress him up more often.

The next few hours passed by in a blur of food and drink and dancing. Maevaris mingled well with the crowd, no fights broke out between Sera and either of the Dalish elves, Meraad didn't hurt anyone, Bern attempted a drunken serenade that left everyone in stitches, and Dorian partook in his Fereldan beer, much to the Bull's amusement.

"Alright, everyone," Varric said as the room began to fill with the orange-red light of sunset. "Let's wrap this up, or at least move it. I've got to conduct business in here tomorrow."

"Awwww," Sera whined. "But it's just gettin' _good_."

"To the tavern!" Bull said, raising his arm for others to follow.

His Chargers, plus Sera, Dagna, and the qunari mercenaries, cheered and did, pouring out of the room.

"Well," Cassandra said, slightly stunned. "That was easy."

"Don't question, just enjoy," Varric said. 

Cole didn't look up from petting Julian's hair. The little one had fallen asleep earlier, somehow able to block out all of the ruckus, and had chosen Cole's lap as his pillow. "The Iron Bull likes being in charge of the party," Cole explained.

Vivienne and her entourage bid Dorian and Bern goodbye. "Take care, my dears. Do let me know how you like the gift."

"Thank you, Madame Vivienne," Bern said, stifling a yawn. "We will."

Maevaris was next. "Well then, it's time for the next part of your wedding night, hm?" She smiled and winked. "Enjoy. And Adaar, it was lovely to meet you. I must come for tea sometime before I leave."

"That would be wonderful, Magister Tilani. Though perhaps not tomorrow."

She laughed as she gave Dorian a kiss goodbye. 

Bern collected the sleeping Julian from Cole. "Do you know where my parents went?" he asked. 

Cole nodded. "They went outside. It was loud in here. They're waiting for you."

"Thank you, Cole. And thank you for coming and looking after Julian. You didn't have to."

"Pana loves him, but she wasn't feeling well. You should give her tomorrow off so she can rest."

"I will, thank you. I wish she'd told me she was feeling ill; she didn't have to come." 

"She wanted to come. You make her excited for the future. She's home now though. Probably sleeping."

"Thank you, Cole. I'll make sure everyone's quiet when we get there."

Cole smiled, pleased to have helped. "You're so happy," he said wonderingly. "It's so bright, even brighter than the mark."

Bern smiled. "I know exactly what you mean. Do you have a place to stay tonight, Cole?"

Cole nodded. "Varric has many rooms. He said one is mine when I want it. He is very kind."

"Yes, he is." Bern adjusted his grip as Julian stirred, threatening to droop out of Bern's arm. 

Dorian touched Bern's shoulder. "I can take him."

"Are you sure?"

Dorian nodded and Bern leaned over, letting Dorian pull Julian into his arms. He was heavy, no doubt about it, but better Dorian lug him than he fall. Bern would never forgive himself. 

Cole smiled at him, clearly having heard his thoughts. But it seemed his humanity had given him tact. "Good night," he said instead. "Sleep well." And he left the hall.

That left Cassandra and Varric. "Maker's blessing on you both," Cassandra said warmly. 

"You've got the suite at the inn for another two days," Varric said with a smile. "In case you want to use it yourself or stick your relatives there."

Dorian laughed. "Thank you, Varric. I think we might make use of that, hm?" He nudged Bern with his hip. 

Bern grinned. "A generous gift. Thank you, Varric."

"Think nothing of it. Now go on, enjoy your evening." He shooed them out the door. "Go."

They laughed as they went, Dorian trying to keep from being too loud. They did indeed find Aban and Meraad on the steps outside. Meraad was sitting, a pipe in her hand, a long plume of smoke rising from her lips.

Aban greeted them with a small wave, then leaned down to pluck the pipe from his wife's hands and take a long draw. Dorian quietly admired the sight of the pale smoke leaking from his sealed lips, before he exhaled out of his nose. Smoking was a terrible habit—yellowed the teeth, shortened the breath—but damn did it look good.

"All finished?" Aban asked as he handed the pipe back. 

"For now," Bern said. "We've got to get Julian home. And Pana is sick."

"Poor thing. She should have said something. I would have taken imekari." 

Bern shrugged. "She's stubborn, just like her aunt. Also, Varric gave us two more days at the inn Dorian was staying at."

The smirk growing on Aban's face was 100% Bern. "Oh really? Well then, why don't you give us imekari and go enjoy yourselves?"

Dorian handed over Julian and Aban smiled as he tucked him against his shoulder. Behind him, Meraad got up, tapping the ash out of the extinguished pipe. She kissed Bern's forehead. "Have fun, kadan. Tell me if you need anything." She looked at Dorian. He wouldn't be shocked if the "anything" she was thinking of was his head on a platter.

Aban put a hand on her shoulder, gripping tightly. They shared a look, Aban raising his eyebrows. She frowned and looked away. Aban smiled at Dorian and waved him over with his free hand. Dorian approached, cautious, but Aban just leaned down to kiss Dorian's forehead. "Welcome to the family," he said. "I'm sorry about your new mother."

Meraad smacked his arm, but there was a small, acquiescing smile on her face. Bern had slapped his hand to his mouth to hide his laughter, but it did nothing to hide the shaking of his shoulders. 

"You're fine," Meraad said. "If you cause no trouble, you will have none."

"Fair enough." Dorian held out his hand. "Truce?"

She took and shook it firmly. "Truce," she agreed.

They bid everyone goodnight and went their separate ways—Aban, Meraad, and Julian back to the Adaar estate, and Dorian and Bern to the inn. They entered the back door, avoiding the tavern portion, and went up to the suite. Dorian closed and locked the door between his room and Maevaris's, then the door to the hallway. 

Then he was pressed up against the door, kissing long and hard. After a few minutes, Bern groaned, and at first Dorian took it as an invitation to continue even harder, but Bern was pulling away, rubbing his neck. He looked down at his stump, and Dorian knew what he was thinking about. Before, Bern would pick him up when they kissed like this, but since losing his hand… 

Dorian poked him in the stomach. "Hey, just because you can't hold me up doesn't mean I can't get up there, you know," he said wryly. He put his hands on Bern's shoulders and hopped up, wrapping his legs tightly around his hips. Bern was knocked back, but soon recovered his balance. Dorian scooted his way up until his legs were around Bern's waist. It was easier to hold the position when his thighs were braced against Bern's pelvis. The slide of their hips against each other was also quite nice. "There," Dorian said smugly, stretching out his arms to let his hands dangle past Bern's head. "Want a neck massage while I'm up here?" He pecked Bern's lips.

Bern didn't put up with that for long, reaching up to grip his hair, pulling him down for another kiss. 

Dorian soon felt his thighs aching, unused to the strain. "Mm, shove me up against the wall, would you?" he murmured. 

Maker, he hadn't been expecting the relish Bern would take in it, the dull thud answered by another one from Maevaris on the other side. Sounded like a shoe maybe? Dorian would've laughed, but he was too aroused to think of it. Bern pushed up the kurta to Dorian's stomach and pulled the churidar down to grip his bared ass. "No smallclothes?" Bern asked in a low rumble that had Dorian's erection fucking _aching_. 

"Not traditional," Dorian breathed.

Bern laughed and curled his fingers around Dorian's cock, teasing the tip with his thumb. "How traditional would it be to spend yourself all over this expensive fabric?"

Dorian groaned, half in arousal, half in frustration. Cleaning come out of the ensemble would be awful (and he wasn't about to let _someone else_ do it, _vishante kaffas_.) "Let me strip would you?" he asked. 

Bern laughed and stepped back from the wall so Dorian could get back on his feet. He swayed slightly as he undressed, hanging the clothes back up in the bureau. It took all his concentration not to just toss them and go back to jumping his husband, so he didn't really notice what Bern was doing until he turned around. 

The paint wasn't just on Bern's shoulders. 

"Please tell me your parents didn't do this," Dorian said, even as he swallowed and licked his lips.

He was sitting on the bed, pants removed, legs wide. The thin brown lines of paint also decorated his hips and thighs, encircling his cock, drawn to near full attention against his stomach. He laughed and his cock bobbed. "No, this was all me. You'll notice it's much less pretty."

"No, I can't say I noticed that," Dorian said honestly. "I was too busy noticing how much work you put into looking pretty for me." He knelt over Bern's lap. "Let me show you how happy I am," he purred.

Bern smirked and reached down to grab Dorian's cock again, eliciting a soft moan. "I can _feel_ how happy you are, kadan," he teased.

"Details, details. We'll never get to the fucking if you keep with the smart comments."

"Good thing we've got two whole days," Bern said easily, running his thumb up and down the underside of the shaft. 

"Hm, a fair point," Dorian conceded, leaning in to nip at Bern's collarbone. "Let's not stop until morning."

"I _do_ like a good challenge," Bern purred. "Let's get started." 

\--

Okay, so they fell asleep after one go. But Dorian had still proven Maevaris wrong _and_ bothered her, so he called it a victory. He snuggled against Bern, who was already fast asleep, smeared with makeup and paint and the aftermath of sex they were too tired to clean up. They'd regret it in the morning without a doubt, but a bath together would be wonderful in its own right, so perhaps it wouldn't be a _big_ regret. Lulled by the sound of Bern's snoring and the deep, distant thrum of his heart, Dorian drifted off to the Fade. 

\--

Dorian and Bern returned home two days later. Julian came running around the corner when he heard the key in the lock. "Babaaaaaaa!" He latched onto Bern's leg. 

Bern laughed. "Were you good for Nana and Nono?"

Julian nodded. "I readed Nana a story. She said she didn't read Trade so good."

"Yeah, Nono is better at that. You could help teach Nana someday, I bet."

Julian beamed at the idea, then looked at Dorian, the smile not leaving his face. "Hi, Dad."

Dorian's heart did a weird thing in his chest, he felt like he was glowing. He grinned. "Hi, Julian."

"Welcome back, sers. This was the wedding gift from Madame Vivienne," Bodahn said brightly, handing Bern a small box closed with a silk ribbon.

Bern gave it to Dorian to open, then picked Julian up to hug him properly. Dorian pulled the ribbon off carefully, watching the elaborate bow unravel, before opening it and immediately gasping. It was a new set of sending crystals. He couldn't even believe it. Pulling one out to show Bern, he opened the housing and spoke, watching the partner crystal light up in turn.

"Maker…" Bern breathed. "How did she…?"

"I have no idea," Dorian said honestly. 

Bern was smiling though. "She is an amazing woman."

"W'as tha'?" Julian asked.

"They let people talk from very far away," Dorian explained. "Look." He placed one of the crystals around Julian's neck and opened the housing, then walked outside. 

" _Baba, where'd he go?_ " Julian's voice came out of the crystal in Dorian's hand.

"Hello, Julian," Dorian said, and smiled at the gasp of delight.

" _Baba, Dad's in there!_ "

Bern laughed. " _Not quite, Julian. But you_ can _hear him, even when he aaaaall the way in Tevinter._ "

" _Wow, magic is cool!_ "

"Yes," Dorian said. "It can be very cool." He came back inside and took the crystal back, carefully tucking both away back in the box. "We need to send Vivienne a really nice thank you card," he said.

Bern nodded. "We should send her an actual thank you _gift_. We could get her tickets to a show in Val Royeaux perhaps? Josephine should be able to help."

Julian squirmed, holding out his arms to Dorian. "Dad!" he said.

Dorian took him, uncaring about how heavy he was, or how much his shoulders would ache later. He held Julian close, kissed his cheek. Bern beamed at them. 

Being a father wasn't going to be easy. Dorian didn't doubt it would only get harder as Julian got older, but damned if he wasn't going to be a better father than the one he'd had. 

_And so another page is turned_  
_I pray I understand what's happening_  
_But if anything, I do know this_  
_I'll be the best I can_  
_-Anthem,_ Kamelot


End file.
